


Forward to the Past

by LemonKith



Category: Barenaked Ladies (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonKith/pseuds/LemonKith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faced with a threat going all the way back to their births, the Barenaked Ladies are going to have to travel all the way back there as well to stop it.<br/>If only that didn't mean meeting, and having to deal with, various younger versions of themselves along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 30th June 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd take a crack at some BNL fic in the style of the old, gen stuff over at [Barenakedbliss.net](http://web.archive.org/web/20031002151034/http://www.barenakedbliss.net/indfanfic.shtml)  
> It might be worth reading some of those fics first to get a feel for what BNL fic is like, and the slightly cartoonish, tongue-in-cheek style of writing I tried to emulate here.  
> (Title is a Back to the Future reference, yeah)  
> Anyway, enjoy and please leave feedback/kudos if you are reading; BNL fic might be sparse now but it'd be great to get some going again!
> 
> This is entirely meant to be just a bit of fun, but as it is real person fiction if anyone featured in this story or closely connected to them is uncomfortable with this please tell me and I'll take it down.

**~#~ 30th June 2016 – Charleston, South Carolina ~#~**

“...Well, it’s obviously a hoax,” Tyler decided.

“Why is it obviously a hoax?” Ed. “Looks too scientific just to be a hoax to me.”

“Because it’s crazy, that’s why!”

“...What if it’s not a hoax though, Ty?” Jim dared to ask. “If it’s real, and we don’t do anything about it...”

“You can’t be telling me you seriously believe this?!”

“I’m just saying; if we don’t do anything and this turns out to be real, we’re heading for a serious disaster.”

Ed frowned over the paper again, flipping it as if something might have appeared on the back since the last time he checked. “Any ideas, Kev?”

“Call Doctor Who?” Kevin joked briefly, continuing to laze on the guy’s hotel couch.

Ed came to sit beside him, reading the ridiculous words one more time. Jim and Tyler waited on their leader with the sheet. Finally, Ed spoke up; “Look, time-travelling schemes or not, this wacko has a serious problem with us and is already WAY too close for comfort. The least we need to do is track him down. If we do it early enough, none of this matters anyway,” He struck the sheet demonstrably. “So let’s just hurry up and find him and deal with... _this_ if it actually happens.”

He got nods from the other Ladies so they left the hotel room, retracing their path back to the lobby. That was where Jim had first noticed Creepy Guy, for want of a name, lurking with an odd-looking camera and given chase up to his room, somehow losing him along the way.

“What did you say he looked like again, Jim?” Tyler asked as they scouted the place out.

“I really don’t know. Black hoodie, jeans, sneakers...” Jim shrugged.

“Well, how about we split up and- Damn it!” Ed noticed. “Has Kevin managed to wander off and get lost already?!”

The three looked all around them again, seeing, yes, only three Ladies.

“Oh freakin’ hell!” Tyler grumbled. “If he’s managed to already get kidnapped or infected by-”

“Doorman says he left the hotel a few minutes ago,” Kevin suddenly said, now reappeared behind Tyler who might have yelped just a little. “Even told me which bus he caught so I got us a taxi.” He pointed his thumb back as everyone moved quickly.

“Thank God you’ve changed.” Ed took the time to wrap an arm around Kevin and clap his shoulder on the way though.

Into the taxi, it set off immediately for whatever directions Kevin had given them. It was a nervous, uneasy ride, Jim tapping his feet slowly, Tyler drumming his fingers quickly. They were looking out of opposite windows while, beside him, Kevin had gone quiet and faraway again. Ed glanced out too but being in a backwards facing seat, he decided to read the note they’d found yet another time:

> _Plan for eliminating BNL - DIE! DIE! STUPID SONG! DIE!_  
>  _~~1\. Invent time-machine~~_  
>  _~~1.5 Invent way to collect time-travel DNA - TNA? - from stupid, stupid BNL!~~_  
>  _2\. Collect TNA from stupid BNL_  
>  _3\. Commence complete elimination of stupid BNL from birth!_
> 
> _~~Milk, bananas, pizza~~ _  
>  _Pick up dry cleaning_

Ed stared a little longer, trying to remember if he had ever seen that handwriting before. So many people over so many years though...

Well, if worst came to worst they could always check the local dry-cleaning shops for-

“There he is!”

It was Tyler that yelled, Kevin that stopped the taxi and Jim they let out first to get the best chance at catching the black-hooded figure who had alighted from the bus and disappeared into a warehouse with Jim in hot pursuit.

Inside the warehouse, when they had caught up but not yet their breath, the other Ladies found only Jim standing by a large machine, arms folded.

“Did... Did you get him?” Tyler panted.

Jim turned around with a ‘What do you think?’ look before pointing to the very green, shimmering portal beside the machine. “He jumped in there just before I could, after turning the machine on. I wasn’t sure if it was safe to jump in after him.”

Ed looked around, seeing nothing but the supposed ‘time machine’ and all the assorted mechanical tools and bits that one would have needed to construct it. The rest of the warehouse lay empty, just the three of them and- “Jesus Christ! Where’d Kevin get to this ti-?!”

“Just paying the taxi driver.” On cue as ever, and the only pragmatic one left apparently. “What’s the big bogey-coloured thing?” He grinned at the portal, walking straight up.

“It’s where our Creepy Guy disappeared into,” Jim said, coming to join him.

Tyler joined them as well, the three of them staring uncertainly at it until Tyler decided the best thing to use was a drummer’s solution: hit it with a stick.

It ate the stick.

“Well done, Ty,” Jim said; “now they have an extra stick in the past.”

“You’re the one who wasn’t brave enough to jump in.”

“Who knows where- when it goes?! And maybe it’s not safe! Maybe it only takes one person and disintegrates anyone else who tries!”

Kevin left the bickering behind to come see what Ed had found investigating the machine. “What you got?”

“Not much...” Ed poked away at more buttons, scrolling through lists of settings and unintelligible code. “...Someone this smart ought to be working at NASA or something, not trying to kill us.”

Kevin watched, eventually going, “Oh, what was that?” when Ed flicked briefly past something comprehensible-looking at last.

Ed went back. “‘Turned on’, ‘TNA set’- I think it’s an activity log. Hey, Jim!” Ed yelled, then pointed at something sticking out of the console like an over-sized memory stick. “That the thing you saw him holding?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” The other two came over away from fighting, although only to start a new fight over whether to pull it out or leave it alone.

Eventually Ed got the two children to stop bickering over it and leave it, Jim shooting a crafty smirk at Tyler, as he tapped on one line of text under the glass screen. “’Arrival date: 10th of May, 1997. Buffalo, New York’.” And above it ‘Charge capacity 38%’; “Looks like he didn’t have the charge to get all the way back in one go.”

Right at the bottom though, a new read-out: ‘Charge capacity 11%’

“He’s charging back up?” Kevin guessed. “To get back here? Or to go further into the past?”

“I don’t know. Either way...” That was all it showed, what the machine had done and where he had gone with it. Ed folded his arms at it. He was staring at the ‘11’ though, waiting for a ‘12’. “...I think we’re going to have to go after him.”

“Into that?” Jim shot the portal a glance. “We’re sure it’s safe?”

Tyler tutted. “I thought you were the adventurous one.”

“I am! But I’ve also got two kids at home I’d like to see again, you know.”

Everyone glanced silently at each other now. Then at the portal with trepidation.

Except Kevin; “There’s an undo button.”

“What?”

“There.” He pointed, smudging the screen slightly. “That little, backwards swirly arrow is an undo button, right?”

“Ha-hey!” Ed finally brightened up. “Nice spot, Kev! All we have to do is-”

> **ENTER PASSWORD**

“Damn it!” Ed would have kicked it but, well, time machine and all. “Any guesses?”

Just a lot of heads shaking.

All the heads turned to the shimmering, green portal then.

Ed sighed. “Oh boy. Here we go again...”


	2. 10th May 1997

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want appearance references for 1997 Ladies I put together [a photo collection.](http://milsmill.tumblr.com/post/146719600074/barenaked-ladies-from-23rd-april-1997-reference)

**~#~ 10th May 1997 – Buffalo, New York ~#~**

“Oh man...” Jim looked back at the plain wall behind him, nothing green and shimmery anymore. Here he’d volunteered to stick his head in and see what was on the other side but the portal had the suction of a rampant, mutant vacuum cleaner and that plan had swiftly gone out the window.

He looked around the room, just a crappy, little bathroom of the kind they knew far too well from years of touring. Barely room to swing a Kevin, since he was the closest thing they had to a cat.

While Jim was still pondering what to do, staring at himself in the slightly cracked, stained mirror-

“-e go!”

“-ease don’t hurt!”

“-what all the-” BANG! “MOTHERFUCKIN’ PIECE OF-!”

“Oh hey, look, Ty.” Jim bent down. “You found your stick.” He picked it up from the bathroom floor where it had spun out from under Tyler’s foot.

“Yeah... Great...” Tyler muttered from underneath one of the crummy sinks, rubbing his sore head.

“All safe and sound?” Ed asked, looking around. “Except for Ty.”

“I’m fine...” Tyler grumbled back onto his feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jim confirmed.

“I think I’m okay.” Kevin said, inspecting himself. “I hope that thing doesn’t give you cancer or something...”

“Good. Where are we?” Ed asked next.

“You expect us to remember every crappy backstage bathroom we’ve ever seen?” Tyler asked. “They all look the same.”

“And smell the same,” Kevin said, pinching his nose a little.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe Jim checked outside the door while he was waiting.”

“No, I didn’t,” he admitted, looking over at it. “...All right. I’ll go.” Not that being the fastest runner was any use in a bathroom with only one exit.

Jim’s tennis shoes padded softly across the cheap tiles. He paused at the door, cracking it open and letting the low, muffled sound of voices in. His head was stuck through the crack and it wasn’t moving.

“...Jim?”

“It’s us,” he reported, pulling back slightly. “Or our voices at least.”

All four looked around, and then to Ed. “Well,” he decided, “standing around in here won’t do anything. We’ll just have to go... hope we’re easy to fool, or convince.”

Outside that door was an empty corridor, similar state of drab and ‘ew’. It lead to the stage and rest of the venue in one direction. Off on one side though, through an open door-

“-So you remember those spicy, bent things? Well, I said I could kill for some of those.”

“And I said I’d kill _with_ some of those.”

“And she gave us the weirdest look, like she actually thought Steve was going to stab someone with them!”

“I mean, like, you could stick a couple up someone’s nose I guess. Get ‘em that way.”

“How? Make ‘em sneeze to death?”

Ed and Steve, and Kevin right at the end. They all knew the laughs too well though.

The four had crept along to the door but no one dared get close enough to potentially be spotted through it. Uneasy glances were cast at each other.

Ed nominated himself this time. “Don’t worry; I know a trick.” He got closer and crouched down, way below the level most people look round a door at.

“Hey! You wanna spy on us up here, buddy?! Or are you looking to get some up-skirt shots?!”

Ed, present-day Ed, sighed and stood up. He put his hands up, stepping into clear view ready so he could technically yell at himself again.

“Who the hell are-?” The voice of Younger-Ed stopped.

“Ed?” Younger-Steve. “What’s up? You know him or-”

“...It’s me.”

A sort of silence fell. It was a very strange, very rare silence.

“...Whaaat?!” Younger-Steve eventually laughed. “But _you’re_ you, Ed! And besides, he doesn’t look like you. He’s like, 50 or something.”

“45, actually,” Ed retorted.

Another one of those silences.

“...Holy shit, he’s- But you’re- What? How-?”

“You’re me from the future, right?” Someone sprung off a creaky sofa. “Like, time-travel’s invented in the future and you’ve come back to- Hey!” Younger-Ed appeared in the doorway. “We’re all here! Come in, guys!”

The present-day band all looked at their Ed.

He just shrugged. “What? You know I’m a science nerd.”

“Ed,” Younger-Steve, “do you really believe that’s actually you from the future?”

They walked uncertainly into the room, following the younger, scruffier Ed. “Well, who else could it be? He sounds just like me. And he...” He scrutinised his older self. “I _guess_ he looks like me, just all saggy and wrinkled up.”

“Hey! I could still beat your ass, mister!” Older-Ed.

“Oh yeah? Bring it!” And Younger-Ed; they hadn’t changed.

“Typical. First thing they do is get into a fight with each other over who’s the better Ed,” Jim said before saying a, “Hey,” to himself.

Younger-Jim nodded back.

“Man...” Younger-Tyler stared at his future. “Hair didn’t survive, huh?”

“Nope. Glad to see you’re enjoying it while it lasts.” Tyler couldn’t stop staring at the blond – God, he was _blond_ – hair in front of him. He really wished he could stop staring at it.

“You’re...” Younger-Kevin had approached Kevin, eyeing up the nose as the feature left to go by. “Are you me? Or Steve?”

“I’m you.” Kevin couldn’t help but be a bit amused.

Younger-Kevin was taken aback. “...Wow. What...?” He looked Kevin up and down. “I mean, what happened to...?”

“Yeah...?” Younger-Ed was giving himself a similar look-over.

Ed took it less gracefully than Kevin. “Try living another 19 years of our life, buddy. You’ll get there.”

“I mean, don’t you work out anymore or...?” Younger-Ed went on asking.

Younger-Kevin seemed more mixed. “I guess this is, like... the fashion in the future? But hey look!” He pointed and turned. “I _can_ grow a beard!”

Talk devolved from there on, not that it had much lower to go, into the minutiae of, “So, am I still with Nat?” “How’s the kids? Did I have any more?” “Is the band doing good? What about Andy?” until,

“So I’m dead, right?”

Everyone’s conversation plummeted into instant silence. Everyone was looking at Younger-Steve, still sitting where he had started on the couch.

“What?” Kevin said. “No! You’re just- Someone had to stay behind to work the time-machine, that’s all!”

“Bullshit,” Younger-Steve called on him instantly, turning to Ed. “Where am I?”

Ed adopted a stronger posture, framed by the door behind him. “You’re alive. You’re well. I think. You left the band. 2009.”

“What?!” Younger-Ed laughed instantly. “Steve would never- You’re not going to leave, are you, Steve?”

“Well, I certainly don’t have any intentions to at the moment,” Younger-Steve confirmed. “Why’d I leave?”

Ed shrugged. “You weren’t happy. We weren’t happy. We wanted to record a new album. You didn’t. You hadn’t been feeling it for a while. It was better for both of us.”

“And we continued as a four?” Younger-Jim asked.

“Mmhm.”

The younger ones were looking around, wondering about it, waiting on Younger-Steve.

It was Younger-Ed who spoke; “Was that really it? Just ‘creative differences’?” He made mocking finger quotes.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, man! If you tell us we can make sure it doesn’t happen!” Younger-Ed went on. “You’d want that, wouldn’t you, Steve?”

“Well, yeah. I  mean, after 21 years, to just suddenly leave like that- That’s crazy!”

“Exactly!”

“I’m not sure it could be fixed,” Ed said, glancing away.

Younger-Ed got back into his sight. “Of course it can! We’ve got a connection like no other, Steve and me! Just tell us what we have to do!”

Tired, piercing eyes looked at younger, shaking ones.

Then they looked at Steve.

“...Nothing.”

“What?!” Younger-Ed grabbed for his older’s T-shirt. “Hey! We can-!”

“Maybe I don’t want Steve to stay in the band! Maybe I’m glad he left!” Ed snapped, smacking his younger arm away. “You wanna know what you’re up to in the future, in our time?” He advanced on Younger-Steve. “You’re suing me. You’re actually suing me over a TV show theme we wrote. Despite how much money you have. Despite the fact I wrote most of the song. So don’t stare at me like that.” Younger-Steve swallowed, trying not to lean back as much as he was with his eyes wide. “I don’t want to... Damn it.” Ed dropped it, turning away. “We’re wasting time anyway. We need to be looking for that guy.”

The other three joined in with, “Oh yeah”s and, “Oops”s as they followed their Ed towards the door, torn between that and staying to enjoy the conversations they had been able to have.

“Wh-Who are you looking for?” Younger-Ed followed straight after them. He got no answer from himself though. “Hey, we’ve got some time before the show! We can help!” He hurried to keep up, looking at the faces of the other three. They all looked uncomfortable or away from him to their Ed. “Is it about that guy who left the bathroom before you-?”

“You saw someone go that way before us?” Finally Ed responded to himself, turning to grab his own shoulders.

“Sure. I thought you were with him, like he was scouting first so you could-”

“Where did he go?”

Younger-Ed just pointed down the corridor, the way they were already going. “Just that way. Sorry, man, that’s all I saw.”

Ed picked the pace back up again. Jim did ask though, “Did you get a good look at him?”

Younger-Ed shook his head. “Just black, hooded jacket and jeans. I only caught a glimpse. Thought he was a crew guy just using the bathroom.” They were approaching the stage area now, the sound of some movement up ahead. It made Ed pause, the group waiting with him. “...So, why are you looking for this guy?”

“He’s trying to erase us from history, or something like that,” Jim answered. “I know it sounds crazy-”

“I still don’t believe it,” Tyler wanted to point out.

“Then how do you explain this?” Jim gestured at Younger-Ed.

“Remember how I said that milk was off at breakfast?”

“I’m not a piece of curdled milk,” Younger-Ed claimed. “Really.”

“Hey. Me,” Ed called back, beckoning himself up. “We can’t really walk around this stage area without being a bit conspicuous. Do you think you could get your guys to help you- Oh. Hey.” He beckoned the other younger ones closer too. “Could you guys help us out? We need to find someone.”

The younger group looked to their Ed. He nodded.

“All right; we’re looking for a guy in a black, hooded jacket and jeans. We don’t know what he looks like if he’s got his hood down,” Ed explained.

“Or he might have already moved on,” Jim added. “If CG’s- What? You want to keep calling him ‘Creepy Guy’?”

“If he’s moved on, you’ll know it if you see it,” Kevin finished off; “it’ll be very green.”

“Check places it’s unlikely people will have gone,” Ed added. “He’ll probably be trying to stay hidden like us too.”

“Right.” Younger-Ed took over. “Me and Steve will take the backstage area. Tyler and Kevin, the lobbies and rest of the building. Jim, you run outside and make sure he doesn’t escape.”

“Right!” Everyone dispersed instantly.

The four left behind watched with some admiration. “We sure were a good team back then.”

“Maybe a bit too trusting.”

“I just wish I could still run that fast...”

Well. The four guessed they were waiting then, and staying out the way if anyone came by.

“...If we have to go further into the past,” Jim eventually spoke up, “are you going to be okay, Ed?” Their nominal leader raised an eyebrow. “I mean... we might encounter Steve again, depending on when we land.”

Ed sighed. “It’s fine. It’s nothing I don’t hear every time I listen to our old records, or see every time I’m stupid enough to check YouTube comments. Besides, it’s younger-Steve, not...” He gestured, then formed a loose fist and folded his arms again. “It only sucks because of all the good memories it brings up. It’s okay. I’ll be fine, Jim.”

Well, if he said so. “What about Andy?” Jim proposed next. “If we end up jumping back a couple of years into that era...” Everyone was already looking at him. “Fine. I’ll explain that one.”

“What are we going to do when we catch this guy?” Tyler asked. “I mean, the note should be enough to prove he’s nuts and get him sectioned at least, if not arrested.”

“If we can prove he wrote it,” Ed added, checking he still had it in his pocket.

“It’s four against one anyway, even if you guys...” Jim looked around the other three and trailed off.

“You got something to say, Jimmy-boy?”

“Well, you three have kinda...” He thought it was probably best to trail off again, even if he was the only one to have mostly retained his physical fitness should it come to a fight. From the look on Tyler’s face, that looked pretty likely pretty soon.

“What are you thinking about, Kev?” Ed asked, simply to break things up and ignore Jim.

“Math.” Kevin continued to think a moment, rubbing at his beard. “38% took us back 19 years, roughly. If it’s 2% for each year, depending on when he activated it here, and presuming he is travelling further back aiming for our births, the next leap would take us back another five and a half years at least. That’ll definitely be pre-me, unless we overshoot BNL-era entirely.”

What happens then, they were all thinking as they looked at each other.

The only thing they knew, “We’re not getting back without him,” Ed stated.

“Ohh...” Kevin whined. “I really wish we hadn’t jumped in; this is crazy. Why didn’t we leave someone behind to work the machine or tie some ropes around our stomachs?”

“Probably because there wasn’t enough rope to do all four of you.” Younger-Ed was back, and back to ragging on his older self with a light knock to the stomach. “Come on; I think we found the thing you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” Ed said, smacking himself round the back of the head, “and keep rocking that goatee; you look _so_ cool.” They started following him into backstage, careful to avoid crew.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I bet when you grow one now it’s grey.”

“You got to number 1 on the _Billboard 100_ yet? No? Didn’t think so.”

Younger-Ed had to stop them right there. “We get to number 1?! On the US single charts?!”

“Holy crap, why did I bring that up...?” Ed tried to drag himself forward, wary of crew.

“When?! What song?! Do I sing it or Steve?! How long’s it stay up there?! What else have we won?!”

Ed felt like smacking himself again. “Have I always been this annoying?”

The other three averted eyes, smiling in various ways.

Eventually, after plenty of short and evasive answers in case, they got Younger-Ed to take them to what he had found.

Yep. That was another portal all right.

“Do we jump in?” Jim asked, cautious about getting sucked into another one.

“The last one didn’t hurt,” Kevin offered.

“Speak for yourself...” Tyler was still rubbing at his head in spare moments.

“We have to go back- Forward. Back? Into this,” Ed decided. “It’s the only way onwards.”

“Can we come?” Younger-Ed asked, getting close and sticking a hand out until his older self yanked him back.

“No. We’ve already got one set of us running around time. We don’t need another.” Ed looked himself up and down. “Especially not a... less experienced one.”

“Hey! Whenever you’re going next, I probably remember it a lot better than you do, old-timer!”

“Oh yeah?!”

“Holy crap...” Tyler rubbed his face now. “Are they going to be like this every time?”

Younger-Steve had brought the rest of this set to see them off, and the portal. The four supposed they could stay for goodbyes, and slightly more ribbing-

“Holy jinks!” Younger-Kevin had yelped upon seeing the portal for the first time, jumping into Younger-Jim’s arms in fright. “What the hell is that?!”

Jim nudged Kevin in the side of his, noticeably larger, stomach. “Remember when you used to be able to do that?”

“Shut up.” Kevin elbowed him back.

“Yeah, I mean seriously,” Younger-Kevin added from his Jim’s arms; “way to let ourself go.”

“Shut up! It’s been stressful, all right?!” Kevin turned a little too pink.

Younger-Tyler didn’t have anything to say to himself except a, “Rock on, brother!” Younger-Steve didn’t seem to want to say anything. Younger-Ed still had too many questions; Ed was actually glad to get away from him.

“Someone else deal with me next time,” he said, preparing to leap.

Ed led the way, the other three following, Kevin last.


	3. 8th July 1991

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have picture appearance references for this time but the ['Lovers in a Dangerous Time' video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_oOc3Zj0KU) will give you an idea for most of the band.  
> As for Kevin, the Look People's ['Low Rider' video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLbyIE8Y-Rk) was from about that time and has the jacket mentioned here.
> 
> The story of Kevin's first kiss here is completely fictional; sorry to those involved. I just needed something like that to move the story along and had used that in another story already.  
> Also, I know things between Tyler and Andy probably weren't that acrimonious when Andy first returned but this fic is about exploring various aspects of their pasts and how they've changed so, you know, artistic licence and all.

** ~#~  8th July 1991 – Downtown Toronto, Canada ~#~ **

Not a grimy, backstage bathroom this time. One step up!

“Hey, Ty. Isn’t this-?”

“Yep.”

Tyler’s grimy bathroom instead.

Or one of his old ones at least.  Much more cramped, Ed was pressed between the bath and toilet rather awkwardly to make room, trying to keep his feet off the somewhat discoloured tiles- “Seriously, did they not invent bathroom cleaner until 95 or something?” he griped, putting his shoes on the bath edge instead. “Now I remember why we never practised at your house...”

“Shut up. I’m trying to remember when I had this house.” Tyler rubbed his temple irritably.

“Uh, guys,” Jim had something more important to point out; “where’s Kevin?”

They looked around. At just the three of them.

“Did he not jump through yet?” Ed asked, watching the space by the wall they had all emerged out of.

“No, he was right behind me,” Jim insisted. “He even had a hold of my shirt because I was still making fun of his weight now.”

A few more moments. Still no Kevin.

“Well, I definitely ditched this house by _Pirate Ship_ ,” Tyler said. “If Kev’s math was right, we’re before he joined the band.”

“So then...” Ed looked around at them both, genuinely worried now, “Kevin really is missing?”

 

** ~#~ 8th July 1991 – Somewhere not Downtown Toronto, Not Canada ~#~ **

“...Uh... Guys?” Kevin looked around the bathroom-cum-dressing room – Someone had hung up some ridiculous-looking outfits in here for changing – but he really was all alone. For the best in one way, considering the size of the space. In every other, “Guys?!” Kevin started to panic.

No, wait; math. He reminded himself of math.

At least five and a half years he’d said. Early 92 or earlier. That would explain why he didn’t recognise the place, if he hadn’t been with the band when they performed here. At the time he’d been...

Oh God.

Kevin realised why he knew the ridiculous-looking outfits in here were for changing. And even worse, he realised when, and where, he was.

 

** ~#~ Downtown Toronto ~#~ **

“What do we do?” Jim sounded almost about ready to panic too, if you knew how to read his always outwardly cool demeanour. “Kevin’s lost in God knows where the Look People were whenever this is and we have no way of reaching him.” He pulled out his phone; no signal. Signal hadn’t even been invented yet.

“More than that,” Tyler added, “if we’ve split into two groups and there’s only one CG, there’ll only be one portal. He’s stuck there.”

“And if we don’t catch him this time,” Jim had to further add, “we might end up before the band even met; we’ll all be separated.”

Ed thought about all this. He didn’t look that dignified doing it, seated on Tyler’s cracked cistern with his feet on the plastic bath edge, but he did his best to think about it. “...There’s the undo button. If at least one of us can catch him and can get back to the present, they should be able to undo everything and bring us all back there, or get him to somehow. Hopefully.” They all looked uneasy at just how ‘hopefully’ that was. “Either way,” He looked at the bit of wall one more time, “there’s no way back now. We have to keep going.”

“God, I really hope this is all just spoilt milk...” Tyler muttered.

Still thinking, just about when they were considering moving- “Does anyone else hear footsteps?” Coming upstairs.

“This is an upstairs bathroom, right, Ty?” Ed asked nervously, looking around for something, maybe a weapon.

“Uh... I think so?”

“You don’t even remember the layout of your old house?” Jim asked, amused.

“Hey!” Tyler objected. “We don’t all have-”

“Is someone in there?”

They all froze.

That meant no one grabbed the door to stop it from opening.

A bewildered Jim Creeggan in baggy T-shirt and shorts stared at them.

The three of them, including another Jim Creeggan, smiled sheepishly back at him.

“Hey, um,” Jim thought it best to address himself, “don’t freak out. We’re not here to do anything bad.”

Young-Jim looked at them, back the way he’d came, then them again. “How’d you get in here? Through the window?” It might have fitted a Jim, or a younger Ed.

“Are you, like, permanently stoned or something, man?” Tyler had to ask Jim. “Don’t you ever freak out about anything?”

“Well, good thing it wasn’t you or you would have attacked us,” Jim replied. “Or Steve to scream the place down.”

“You know us?” Young-Jim asked, still just standing there.

“Yeah. Are the rest of the band here?” Young-Jim nodded. “We’ll explain. Can you take us down?”

He nodded again. “I kind of need to,” He pointed at the toilet Ed was still sat on first.

“Oh right. Sorry.” Ed hopped off and they gave Young-Jim some privacy.

 

** ~#~ Somewhere in Switzerland, Europe ~#~ **

“Please don’t be in Europe. Please don’t be in Europe- Oh jeez...” Kevin sighed as he cracked the door open and looked at the German sign. Great. Did he have enough money for a plane ticket? He had... $50. “Well, with inflation...”

He took one last glance at his red, studded cowboy jacket-

Actually... He’d lost this one somewhere along with line with Hugo. Might be worth something at a charity auction if nothing else.

Kevin grabbed the jacket, pleased it still fitted over his T-shirt even if it probably wouldn’t do up anymore, and walked out stealthily – Well, Kevin liked to imagine it was stealthily – from the bathroom.

Another backstage area, although much more deserted. No crew setting up. He remembered this stage of touring, the theatres and clubs; you set your own stuff up around lunch and then the house guys checked it was working around dinner-time. What with all the crazy power adaptors one needed here in Europe, and his rather bashed-up keyboards and leads-

“Oh man, come on...! I wanna go for lunch already, you stupid piece of...”

Kevin recognised that angry grumbling. It had saved him a lot of quarters into the Hearn family swear jar during his childhood. “Lead trouble?” he asked.

One Kevin looked up at another and completely spooked.

 

** ~#~ Downtown Toronto ~#~ **

Five stared at three, completely spooked.

“...And you...” Young-Steve asked, “found them in the bathroom?”

“What were they doing in the bathroom?” Young-Ed asked, scratching at his head. Ed had to look away from that hairstyle; how had he ever worn _that_?

“I don’t know,” Young-Jim said; “just standing around talking.”

“But why my bathroom?” Young-Tyler added, sizing himself up.

“Look, we’re not in control of this, okay?” Tyler answered himself. “We’re chasing someone backwards through time- I can’t believe you guys have got me saying this shit – Anyway, did anyone else come down before us, maybe go out the backdoor or something?”

A general shaking of heads; the young five had been taking a break from rehearsing for the past 20 minutes, running through technical matters and specific difficulties. They would have heard anyone come down or go out through a door.

“I thought I heard something upstairs a bit ago,” Young-Jim did mention, “but Ty’s place creaks like a shack anyway.”

“Hey!” the Tylers said, then turned to each other and congratulated each other on the perfect timing and harmony.

“Out the window maybe?” Jim suggested.

“Unless he’s still hiding in the house,” Ed offered.

Young-Ed walked right up to himself. “Are you _really_ me? You sound like me but...” Ed folded his arms in offence as he was looked over once again. “...I mean, I guess I might look like that when I’m 60 but-”

“I’m 45, you little bastard!”

Oh boy. Jim just rolled his eyes. Tyler was easy enough to prove. As for himself, “Wow. I’ve definitely aged much better,” Young-Jim commented, grinning with a wide mouth.

Jim had forgotten how good he used to look with a beret. “Thanks.”

“So,” Young-Steve interjected, “if you’re the band, where am I?”

They all stopped chatting, and it gave Young-Ed a chance to dodge the punch headed for his stupid haircut. Casting a glance at Ed, “Someone had to stay behind and work the machine,” Jim at least tried to save another round of that.

“Oh. Okay.” Young-Steve just shrugged. “You at least got a picture of me or something?”

They dug in pockets for phones, wondering if anyone did.

“What about me?” Ah. There was Andy too this time.

Jim had said he’d do it so he stepped up, trying to work out if his brother would buy it took two people to work the machine-

“I’ve left the band, haven’t I?”

Didn’t even give him a chance to see.

“Uh... yeah, you have,” Jim had to admit. “You’re... already thinking about it?”

Young-Andy looked up slightly at him, arms folded, posture defensive. He glanced in the Tylers’ direction and said, “Sometimes. Ever since I came back I-”

“You what?” Young-Tyler butted in. “Can’t deal with the fact you’re replaceable? Or that congas suck as a instrument compared to proper drums?”

“WHOA! Whoa!” Jim stepped between them. He recognised that look on Andy’s face from years of going slightly too far with his teasing sometimes. “You’ve got a few more years yet, bro. Don’t... You don’t need to-”

“What?” Young-Andy said.

“Yeah!” Young-Tyler was joining in from behind him too. “If you’ve got something to say, I wanna hear it.”

“You think you can just muscle into this band because you’re funny, because you know how to hit something with a stick?” Young-Andy pushed past him, too many years of brotherly practice. “You know nothing about music or what this band’s about; energy doesn’t make up for a lack of talent and,” He glowered at Tyler too, “I dread to wonder what direction the band’s gone in with you contributing to the songs.”

Young-Andy dodged the first punch nimbly, even grinning. “You stuck-up, motherfucking-!” He was stopped by his own hand grabbing his arm. “What?! You’re gonna let him-?!”

“You don’t know shit about musical theory compared to him,” Tyler pointed a finger in his own, younger face, “and you’ll never be as talented as he is, so shut the fuck up and listen: Stop riling everyone up just because you’re insecure about Andy being back. You’re not the big shit you crack yourself up to be; you’re the fucking drummer. So sit down, and chill out, all right?”

Young-Tyler glared at him, eventually wrenching his arm free. “Jeez. When did I become such a square...?”

“When you realised you’d never be a song-writer or the big man at the front. But you can be a decent enough drummer to stay with these amazing guys if you concentrate on just that.”

Less of a glare now, Young-Tyler was just petulantly frowning at his older self giving such a ‘dad’ lecture.

Tyler relented, since he was doing it in front of 6 staring witnesses and pulled himself aside. “You’ll never be the popular one,” he told himself so the others couldn’t hear, “but you’ll be the only thing holding this band together at some points, when Jim’s struggling with losing Andy, when Kev- Well, you don’t know Kevin yet but when he goes through shit, when Steve and Ed are fighting or finding it hard letting Jim and Kevin contribute song ideas. Having someone who just hits drums and cracks stupid fart jokes is what they need. You’re the oldest in the band,” Tyler reminded himself, “so sometimes you have to act like it.”

Young-Tyler really didn’t look impressed. He looked ready to hit Tyler instead actually. But eventually he walked away, up to Young-Andy, and grunted a, “Sorry.”

Young-Andy supposed he could mutter a, “Sorry,” too, since two Jims were poking him in the back to do so.

The situation managed to return to normal, as normal as this situation could ever be, when someone got out a photo to show Young-Steve, “Ah man. I was hoping I might age at least as well as Tyler or something...” and Round Two of Ed vs. Ed commenced.

The Creeggans, all three of them, watched the action from one side of the room. It was Young-Jim who seemed most uneasy, the other two actually enjoying the battle of the Eds. “...It’s okay,” Young-Jim eventually asked, “when Andy leaves?”

Jim glanced at the two of them, either side of him. “Yeah, eventually. It’s rough at first but you’ll like Kevin. A lot.” Jim smirked. Young-Tyler had already asked if this ‘Kevin’ was at least a bit less stuck-up and played a better instrument. “And we still play together; The Brothers Creeggan. We’ve got four albums out. Mom handles most of the orders.”

“Really?” Young-Jim looked at least placated by that.

“What about me?” Young-Andy asked. “After the band.”

“Well, after graduating from McGill with a degree in composition,” Seeing Young-Andy’s face turn to mildly surprised awe was cute. Seeing his own looking way more thrilled and excited for his brother was even cuter, “you do various composing things now and, you remember Natacha?”

“Natacha?” Confusion, “You mean... Hébert?” then an amusing bit of pink.

“Aaanyway,” Jim laughed.

He found his own left hand being pulled out of his pocket and examined excitably for a ring.

So many stories they wanted to hear and tell, but since the fight had now concluded – And it turned out an older Ed could kick his own, younger ass – they had better get searching.

 

** ~#~ Somewhere in Switzerland ~#~ **

“I still don’t believe you.”

Kevin sighed. “God, I don’t remember being this obstinate...”

“Prove it,” Young-Kevin insisted, despite having already got his more experienced self to fix his lead problem.

“Prove it... This is Switzerland 91 you said?” Kevin checked. “You discovered the Nits yet?”

Young-Kevin startled, but he still pouted suspiciously. “I’ve been talking non-stop about them since I found them a couple of days ago. Anyone could know that.”

“Jesus Christ, you want something...” Kevin wasn’t even sure he could remember anything this far back in time. Just childhood, choir-singing, bathing the dog in tomato juice, floating shoes on air vents at Nathan Phillips Square- “Your first kiss was with Harland while you were dressed up as a Russian exchange student.” Okay, that was instantly proof enough. Young-Kevin was panicking, looking around for anyone within half a mile that could have overheard. “So either I’m you or I’m Harland from the future. I’d suggest you pick me,” Kevin said; “I’ve aged much better.”

“Wow. Harland must look terrible then.”

“Hey!” Making such comments with that stupid, puffy mullet- God, 90s fashion... “So, believe me now?”

“...Yeah, I suppose.” Young-Kevin was still frowning at his own baggier, bearded face. “What are you here for again?”

“You notice anyone else around in here, particularly coming out of the bathroom?” he gestured.

“I don’t know; did they steal my jacket for tonight’s show too?”

Kevin sighed. “Jeez, you’re more difficult than Havana...”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Just help me look around.”

Young-Kevin blamed low blood sugar for being so snippy. If they failed in this search, apparently he’d found the best cake shop in town to go get his lunch at. Kevin really hoped this search failed.

“So...” Searching was getting a little boring, even if it hadn’t failed yet, “I, um...” Young-Kevin trailed off.

“What? I’m you; it’s not like you can ask too personal a question.” It was probably just something like if he was still with the Look People or how his family were doing-

“Have I lost my virginity yet?”

Kevin had to turn around with his hands on his hips. “I’m 47 in three days and you think I _still_ haven’t lost my virginity?”

“I don’t know!” Young-Kevin shrank, blushing deeply. “I’ve not had much luck at it...”

Now Kevin was starting to understand why Ed got into fights with himself. “You will. 26.”

“Aw, jeez...”

“Hey. I waited until the right person, okay?”

“...So it was good?”

“Is our sex life the only thing you want to know about?” Actually, Kevin remembered being 22. “Yeah, it’s great,” he said.

Young-Kevin wasn’t even looking around anymore, just staring down at his older self’s shoes and trailing. “...Am I married?”

“No. But you have a child.”

“Out of wedlock? Is Dad annoyed?”

He chuckled. “His granddaughter’s too cute to ever be annoyed about.” Kevin reached for his phone. Havana was both his lock-screen and backdrop so the only question was which one to-

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Kevin looked up and followed the finger.

A green glow.

Kevin ran quick around the corner, pulling aside the backstage curtain rail to expose just what he was looking for. “My ticket out of here, I’m afraid.”

“Aw...”

Kevin smiled at himself. He said his brief goodbyes, and couldn’t remember if the cake was good. “Just do something about this abomination, okay?” he said, ruffling his own puff-mullet.

“Hey! Hands off the puff!” Young-Kevin started finger-combing it back into style.

Kevin left him to it; that could be a while.

 

** ~#~ Downtown Toronto ~#~ **

“You okay, Ty?” Jim asked, the two of them now hunting the neighbourhood for a portal like all the rest.

“What?”

“Well, you kind of had a go at yourself back there. I was just wondering-”

“Nah,” Tyler cut him off with a pat on the shoulder. “You know all those interviews where they ask what you’d tell your 20-year-old self? Feels even better to actually be able to do it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Maybe he should have said more to himself then... “...I never noticed you and Andy were both feeling kind of...”

“Don’t worry about it. We talked it out privately around this time anyway, although a bit more violently.” Tyler rubbed the back of his head; injuries certainly travelled backwards with them. “We straightened things out. I’m pretty sure Andy wanted to stay in the band for the next few years at least.”

Jim was a bit more relieved than that. Although, “So, you hit my little brother then?”

“Well, yeah. Not too- Come on, man!” He backed off from Jim punching a fist into the other hand like that. “Jeez! It was like 25 years ago! And he hit me too, you know.” Jim dropped it, but Tyler wondered if it was only because Young-Ed had suddenly run up calling them. “I take back that whole ‘never freak about anything’ thing; you get fucking psycho when it comes to Andy.”

“He’s my little brother,” Jim simply said, knocking Tyler in his sore spot for good measure, “Now come on,” before setting off running unfairly fast.

The portal had been found. Ed was only just about keeping the young five from jumping in to go meet other versions of themselves. “Thanks, guys; leave all the babysitting to me, why don’t you?”

“You’re good at it,” Jim commented.

“You babysit all of us all the time, after all,” Tyler added.

They wanted to jump in already, worrying the next leap might take them pre-band if they didn’t hurry.

Their young-selves though-

“Tell older me to come visit sometime,” Young-Steve insisted. “I wanna know more about my life.”

“And grow your hair out, man,” Young-Ed said to himself; “you look like someone’s dad.”

“I _am_ three people’s dad!”

“I don’t know if this is weird,” Young-Andy said to Jim, “but tell my older self I’m proud of the stuff he’s done, and I’m looking forward to doing it.”

“I will.” If Andy would believe him about any of this.

“Same here for you, me,” Young-Jim added.

Or maybe not. It was kind of weird. “Thanks, I think?”

Young-Tyler- “You okay, man?” Tyler asked.

“Dunno. Kind of sucks being told you’ll always just be a back-up dancer, not the lead, you know?”

“So what? I enjoy it.” His young-self looked unconvinced. “Less responsibility when you’re just the fat, funny guy getting to crack all the jokes in interviews.”

Oh, maybe he was starting to get through a little. “You get to do lots of interviews?”

“Jim and Kev are kind of quiet so yeah, I get to join Ed, and Steve,” he lied quickly, “as the light relief.”

Well, his life choices looked mostly approved. Tyler knew he’d change his tune, once he grew the hell up a bit.

For now-

“If we get separated,” Ed said, just before the leap, “everyone look for the portal. We don’t know whose timeline he’s on or where he’s going so everybody search for him and take the portals if you find them. Otherwise, just wait for whoever he did follow to pull us back to the present. Keep your conversations short from now on once they trust you and tell you if they’ve seen him; we need to hurry up and catch this guy.”

“Right,” the other two agreed.

That left nothing else to do but dive in.


	4. 25th September 1985

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Appearance references for this chapter](http://milsmill.tumblr.com/post/147858054289/appearance-photos-for-chapter-4-of-my-bnl-fic)

** ~#~ Woburn Collegiate Institute, Toronto ~#~ **

“A bathroom AGAIN?!” Ed stared around the familiar old- “Oh God... I’m back in high school...”

 

** ~#~ Sir Oliver Mowat Collegiate Institute, Toronto ~#~ **

Jim looked around the stalls and old urinals he still recognised, thankfully devoid of anyone else but- “Great...”

 

** ~#~ Huron Heights Secondary School, Toronto ~#~ **

“Okay, this guy seriously has a bathroom fetish,” Tyler muttered, looking around to see where Ed and- “Aw, crap.”

 

** ~#~ Lawrence Park Collegiate Institute, Toronto ~#~ **

“Oh, this is nice.” Kevin looked around the outside area he’d emerged into. Tall, leafy trees, dry, earthy clearing around the back of the buildings that were- “Holy... I’m back at school.” And this was where, “Gross!” people used the 'bathroom' when they couldn’t be bothered to walk back to the actual school buildings or needed to avoid bullies.

He avoided the suspiciously dark, wet patch of soil near his foot, noticing footprints as he did. “Ah-ha! Not so smart now, are-” Wait. Those were _his_ old shoe prints. He remembered the pawprint pattern he’d thought was so cool when he bought them.

Kevin sighed, walking out around the corner of the abandoned outbuilding over to the even more dilapidated, wooden gazebo barely even on school grounds where-

Yep. A young punk thought he was so cool sitting on one of the railings, hair quiffed and puffed, his older brother’s pleather jacket on, listening to Lou Reed on a portable cassette player whilst drawing dragons and the latest _Star Trek_ aliens in the corners of his Math book.

Kevin shook his head, steeling his self-esteem to walk over anyway.

 

** ~#~ Woburn Collegiate Institute ~#~ **

Phones had been useless since the first jump. Without internet they still displayed the date as 30th June, 2016.

Woburn placed him somewhen between 85-88 though, Ed could work out as he buttoned up his shirt and smoothed his hair in the mirror, digging out his old acting skills to walk confidently out of the bathroom.

A corridor of lockers. He would have been at a loss remembering where his was, or if it was even on this corridor, if he hadn’t seen a familiar head of dark, brown fuzz fiddling around in one.

“Hey. Robertson,” Ed walked up, luckily finding it was his teenage face that turned to look at him. “I’m Mr. Elwyn, supply teacher.” Casual though his baggy, short-sleeved shirt and distressed, grey jeans might be, Ed hoped he could at least pass for a supply Art teacher or something. “I need to ask you something.”

“Um, okay.”

Aw, he’d scared his poor younger self. “You see anyone come out of that bathroom a few minutes ago?” Ed pointed. “Adult probably, maybe with a black, hooded jacket?”

Teen-Ed nodded. “Yeah. He came out right behind me. Went that way.” He pointed down the corridor in the other direction, past the bathroom to a T-junction.

“Thanks.” Ed set off quick, no time for even an introduction this time.

Teen-Ed had other ideas though, following him. “...Don’t I know you from somewhere? I swear I’ve never seen you teach here.”

Ed sighed, looking into classrooms briefly as they passed. He was never going to find CG this way; one person wasn’t enough compared to eight. “Yeah, all right. You do, buddy,” Ed levelled with his teen-self, crouching just a little. “I’m you from the future, 2016. I’ve come back undercover to catch this guy. It’s really important we catch him as quick as possible.”

Teen-Ed was staring at him with understandable bewilderment and sceptism. Then, no, curiosity instead, getting in close to examine Ed’s eyes. “Show me your teeth.” And that.

Ed rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, showing his crooked lower set.

“Wow.” Trust that to be enough proof. “I mean... Holy crap, wow!”

“We need to hurry,” Ed repeated.

“Sure! I’ll help you!” Thank God. And here teenagers were meant to be the difficult age. “I thought he looked suspicious following me out so I remember glancing back actually. He disappeared really quick so I think he went outside there,” Teen-Ed pointed to a door they’d passed, one Ed barely noticed it was so rarely used. It led to nowhere in particular outside and its main purpose had been for propping open in summer just to ventilate the place.

“Perfect.”

They set off fast, Teen-Ed trailing and doing his best to describe the quick glance he’d got exiting the bathroom – “No beard. Maybe stubble though. I’m not sure... Not dark skin but not super pale either,” – which was at least better than nothing.

Scouting as quickly as they could, Teen-Ed was much more useful at remembering out-of-the-way places around the school even though he’d only been here less than a month- “Great. Grade 9...”

“What?” Teen-Ed asked.

“Nothing.” Ed shook his head, trying not to hum.

“...So...” _That_ starting tone was familiar after two past versions of himself, “I’m a time-police agent when I grow up, or something?”

“Actually I’m a rockstar.” Maybe he shouldn’t be starting this again but there was nothing else to talk about. “I just, uh, work for the time-police on the side, between shows.”

“No way! That’s, like, the coolest job EVER!”

All right. Seeing that shining, awe-filled face made any time they lost totally worth it.

Teen-Ed wanted to know all about the band, what being a musician for a job was like, how to write better songs – Much better questions then the other Eds.

They were just ticking off a couple of final places around school now, this one passing by an outside eating area that was packed on a sunny, Indian summer day like this.

“It’s lunchtime?” Ed asked, just curious.

“Sure! It’s 12:32pm on September 25th, 1985!” Teen-Ed over-answered helpfully, checking his old-school digital watch.

Ed thanked him but then he had to slow, stopping as he stared into the sea of tables and students. Sitting at one so close to them, face almost in profile but with no idea Ed was looking at him or even existed- “You know that guy yet?” He pointed to the nerdy, pale boy with sandy hair flopped over his eyes and pouty lips.

“Uh... Steve or something?” Teen-Ed didn’t know anything more than that.

Fair enough. Ed took a moment to look at all the old faces he knew, some he had even watched grow up over the 30 years since with his own.

One in particular though- “Natalie?” Teen-Ed asked, seeing where his older-self was staring now.

“You know her yet?”

He wasn’t surprised to get a ‘no’. “I’ve seen her around. She looks nice. I was thinking about asking her to hang out sometime...” Teen-Ed admitted. “...Should I bother? Does it work?”

“Oh, buddy,” Ed couldn’t help but laugh, “it does more than just work.” He flashed his wedding ring and dragged his teen-self on quickly, remembering what they were here for.

“I’m married to her?! To someone that pretty, AND I’m in a rock band?!”

Trust the one tolerable Ed so far to be one he couldn’t dally with. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, considering what you’re wearing,” Ed said, casting another mortified glance at the jacket his teen-self had on, the entire back taken up by a massive Kim Mitchell patch, “but Kim Mitchell played on one of our songs too. Did **_the_** coolest guitar solo ever.”

Teen-Ed looked ready to hyper-ventilate. He just kept repeating, “Holy shit!” and holding onto his head like it was going to explode. “My whole life is the most amazing thing ever!”

“Yep.” It was certainly nice to share it with someone else who got the giddy thrill. “But it might not be that way if we don’t catch this guy quick and stop him; he’s trying to change the past.”

That snapped his teen-self out of it. “Right! Oh man, let’s hurry up and catch this guy!”

With the burst of speed and ingenuity that gave him, Teen-Ed found the portal in no time, hidden somewhere Ed must have forgotten existed unless it had been specially created to house just the portal and nothing else in this tiny, tucked-away dead-end by the school bins.

“Hope you catch him soon!” Teen-Ed called and waved as Ed approached to jump in.

He stopped to wave back this time. Man, fame must have really gone to his head or something; he was such a nice kid, if kind of unfortunate-looking.

Ed jumped in, no longer minding now if he had to encounter himself a few more times along the way.

 

** ~#~ Sir Oliver Mowat Collegiate Institute ~#~ **

Jim walked out of the bathroom into an effectively bigger bathroom, the changing rooms for sports. Thankfully deserted except for-

With a wry sigh, Jim averted his eyes from his own junk. “Why did you pull your boxers down too?”

“It was an accident, all right?” Teen-Jim sounded a little tetchy. “And who the hell are you anyway?”

He’d at least pulled his boxers and jeans on when Jim dared to look again, taking in the short, ginger curls as long as Mom would let him grow them and even worse-looking lankiness of a teenage body still growing into itself. “Grade 9?” he took a guess, just for the song.

“10,” Teen-Jim said, with the slightly deeper voice to prove it.

Grade 10, huh? Jim looked around, trying to stir up some memories he could use as proof. Teen-Jim was already standing in front of him now, dressed again with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He didn’t look too pleased, or patient. “Look,” Jim began, banking on the ease of his last two encounters, “I’m you from the future, all grown-up. I look and sound kind of like you, right?” He was given no response yet. “Did you see anyone else come through here before me, in a black jacket and jeans? He’s come back in time too to cause trouble.”

He was still being stared at – More scowled at, maybe – but eventually Teen-Jim shrugged. “Okay. Sounds crazy enough to believe.” Jim rubbed his head but smiled in success, he supposed. “I saw him just as I came out of the shower. Went out and headed left.” He pointed to the exit door.

“Thanks.” Jim didn’t stay any longer this time, setting off straight away. It sounded as if they might be closing in, considering he had always been a quick changer.

Teen-Jim was following him, either out of willingness to help or an ambivalent need to leave  anyway. Jim supposed he could hold the door for himself, especially since, “You okay?” He nodded at Teen-Jim’s slightly uneven gait.

“I thought you were me.” Teen-Jim stopped in the doorway, hostile suspicion creeping into his features.

“I am! But it’s been, like, thirty years, man. I can’t remember every...” Oh wait. He _did_ remember this one. “Torn hamstring, right?” Near the end of grade 9.

“Yeah.” Teen-Jim walked on, heading left too.

There wasn’t much that way except the equipment stores. Jim supposed he could chat if he was getting help. “It’ll heal in a couple of years. Then you’ll be running again just fine, okay?”

“Couple of years. Great...”

He left Jim rubbing his head again. “Since when did I have a moody phase?”

“It coincided with your ‘Shit at gym, get Jim to time everyone else’s laps because he can’t run himself’ phase...” Stopping, Teen-Jim started rummaging around in his bag, eventually pulling out a stopwatch and whistle. “Here. You remember where these go, right?” He forced them into Jim’s too willing hands.

“Um...” Jim stared at them. “No. I don’t,” he said, handing them back. Teen-Jim took them with a shrug and walked on beside him. “Hey, look. It gets better, man. Our life turns out great.”

His teen-self looked up slightly, already about 6 foot, with a slightly more hopeful, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ve just started electric bass, right?” He remembered that summer; crazy hot and he’d spent the entire thing either in the river canoeing or inside practising bass every time a summer storm came. Teen-Jim nodded with a matching, small smile. “I’m in a band now, electric and upright. We get to tour all over the world, millions of fans.”

“Seriously?”

Now he was looking more like the other Jims. “Yeah, it’s fantastic. Oh, and 800m personal best?” Now he had proper intrigue from Teen-Jim too. “1:51:6.” He grinned.

“Nice!” So did he.

“There you go. So, you see?” Jim said, taking the stopwatch and whistle back, “it all works out fine. And I _do_ remember where these go. Go get lunch.”

“Sneak,” Teen-Jim said as his older-self continued to the store room.

“Hey. We’re the cheerful one,” he beamed, slipping in. Then popping his head back out just to say, “Oh, say hi to Andy for me!”

“Sure. Fine.” Teen-Jim walked off, steps uneven but a smile back on his face.

It wasn’t hard to find a glowing green portal in a dark room. Neither was it hard to remember where to hang the stopwatch and whistle up on the wall just inside the door. Jim hopped in nice and easy, feeling pretty damn good.

 

** ~#~ Huron Heights Secondary School ~#~ **

Tyler stepped out from the bathroom feeling conspicuous for once in his life. Shouting and goofing about for attention was one thing but being here, at his age...

Everything felt so small. It felt just wrong. “I bet this really is just spoilt milk...” Certainly smelt like it- Or wait. That might have been the bathroom he just came out of.

He remembered which way to go though, or took a guess.

“Can I help you?”

He paused in the newly-opened door, surprised probably more at his own politeness than anything. Teen-Tyler, probably junior or senior year- Setting out chairs for student council meant senior year actually. He almost chuckled at the short afro and ingenuous expression his younger self was wearing. “Yeah, um. This is going to sound like a super weird question but did you see anyone exit the boys’ bathroom recently in a black, hooded jacket and jeans?” Straight to the point. Too stupid to say anything else.

Or so he felt, in front of this younger, accomplished self. “Um, yeah. Did you need him for something?”

“Yeah. Could you tell me which way he went?”

Though he glanced at the chairs he was still setting out, Teen-Tyler dropped that task to come point out a direction, “Down that corridor. I think he turned right, even though there’s nothing really that way except the janitor’s closet. Is he a janitor or something?”

“Something like that, yeah, thanks.” Tyler set off, casting a slow, lingering glance back.

Teen-Tyler was watching him from that door, starting to frown.

He moved a bit quicker, trying to keep his gaze steady and ahead. His outfit stood out too much for the time; no adult in the 80s wore a T-shirt and overshirt with shorts, let alone in school. Kids were staring, not just his younger self, and hurrying on because of that only made them stare worse. He might have played up for attention in high school but not like this.

There was only the janitor’s closet around the right turn, and a window. Tyler took a good look through that, seeing nothing you could step out onto. Just a good, old two-floor drop that would do anyone’s knees in. Probably push them up through your ribs too.

Just the closet then-

“Who are you again?”

Teen-Tyler had followed him.

And caught him with his red hand on the closet door, looking like the guiltiest shit to ever try and steal a mop and half a dozen ‘Wet Floor’ signs. “Uh...” Luckily Teen-Tyler was walking up closer, making it easier not to announce himself publicly as a madman when he said, “I’m you from the future actually, Tyler Joseph Stewart.”

 Teen-Tyler looked suitably unimpressed. “From the future?”

“Look, I don’t believe it either,” Tyler said. “I still think this is all just some bad milk I drank this morning and, if so, you’re just a hallucination of my mind. And if you’re a creation of my mind, I control you. And I’m going to make you believe me.” He started doing wiggly finger motions towards Teen-Tyler’s head.

It was funny watching yourself really laugh, properly crack up at something when Teen-Tyler couldn’t contain himself any longer in front of the stupid face he was looking at. “You fucking crazy or something, man?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking crazy,” Tyler stuck his chin out proudly; “I’m you.”

He really wasn’t sure if Teen-Tyler believed him – He looked ready to call the hall monitors on him – but amusement had won out, at least for a moment. Sharing a sense of humour really meant something. “So, what have you come back in time for?”

“That guy I mentioned; he’s up to no good.”

“And you’re after him?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What did he do,” Teen-Tyler said, looking at the closet; “forget to mop a floor properly?”

What had he done? “I don’t know, man,” Tyler admitted. “I’m just doing what I’m told, working for the man.” He opened the door finally, letting the green spill out.

His younger self stared in with disbelief. “Holy crap. What is that?”

“Believe me now?” Tyler asked, gesturing.

Teen-Tyler stared, then at himself, “...Yeah,” and back again. “That was some seriously bad milk.”

Tyler had no idea if he believed it himself as he stepped in ready to jump, glancing back. He had no idea if he believed any of this himself. But he did know how much he was laughing right now, both of him, and heck.

That was enough.

 

** ~#~ Lawrence Park Collegiate Institute ~#~ **

“Hearn!”

Kevin just wanted to watch himself startle like that, nearly tumble off his wooden perch. Teen-Kevin stayed steady though, mostly, and hurriedly tucked his math book away before realising- “Hey! Who the hell are you?”

Not only _so_ embarrassing. Belligerent, again, too. “What are you doing out here?” Kevin asked.

“I asked first!” Teen-Kevin said, putting his cigarette back to his lips.

Kevin just stared. He watched his hand lash out, grabbing the cigarette and throwing it to the ground to crush under his shoe before he could even stop himself.

“Hey!” What? Did his teen-self really think he could take him in a fight? He might have looked like the background, token gay character from _Grease_ but Kevin knew he couldn’t throw a punch; he’d tried many times at that age. “I was smoking that!”

“Don’t smoke,” Kevin simply told him.

Teen-Kevin snubbed his nose at him, flicking curly bangs out of his face. “You’re not the boss of me, Grandad!” He took his packet from his jacket pocket, trying to slide out another one with unpractised fingers.

Kevin grabbed that too, crushing the nearly empty box in his hand. “Don’t smoke,” he repeated.

“Why not?” Teen-Kevin put his hands on his hips nice and effeminately. “I don’t smoke that much. It’s not like I’m going to get cancer from a couple a day.”

That was it. Kevin was going to deck himself.

“Now, give ‘em back!” his teen-self went on, more pleadingly; “I spent the last of my pocket money on those!”

Kevin shoved them in his own pocket, lifting up his glasses and staring himself right in the eye.

Teen-Kevin stopped whining. And started to frown. “...Are we related?”

“I’m you. From the future.” There was some belief there. Mainly impossible incredulity though. “And you _will_ get cancer. Twice.”

Now entirely disbelief. Kevin got to hear his own laugh directed at himself.

Fine. “How old are you? What year is this?” He looked around as if there were going to be clues.

“1985. I’m 16,” Teen-Kevin played along.

Good. Then he could pull the Harland-kiss bit again to get some instant belief. And a much more amusing reaction this time; boy, his face really could go pink.

Embarrassment turned to shock. Shock to amazement. Amazement into horror. “I’m going to get **_cancer_**?!”

“Twice. Leukaemia, then tongue cancer.”

“Do I survive?!”

Kevin actually had to work out how he could be stupid enough to ask that. He just gestured at himself instead.

“Hey, you could have travelled forward and met future you- us,” Teen-Kevin shrugged.

Huh. Maybe this kid was actually kind of smart, or certainly a sci-fi nerd. “Still want to smoke?”

“Holy crap, no!” Teen-Kevin shrank away from the packet being brandished again. “I didn’t think I could... Is it from smoking?”

“It can’t have helped,” Kevin said, looking at the crushed packet up close again himself. It had been a while, thankfully.

“Oh my God...” He was going to have a fainter on his hands soon at this rate. “You can actually get cancer in your tongue?” Teen-Kevin asked, latching onto anything to help him deal with this.

“Yeah. And it sucks,” Kevin could testify.

“Wow...” Teen-Kevin stared at the ground. “What a lame kind of cancer,” he almost scoffed.

“Sorry; should I have had the malignant tumour grow somewhere cooler?” Kevin sarked back.

His teen-self shook his head. Guilty and obedient; that was much better. Quick to pick up on things too, perching on the wooden gazebo edge again to ask for all the details.

It could be hard any time he had to speak about those memories. But this time when it was not to be glad of them being behind him and all he had learnt, but to relieve their pain, and worse his own stupidity for never realising sooner... The tongue cancer was less of a problem; it hadn’t had time to scar deep and he had known the signs. 1998 though-

“I’ll go sooner,” Teen-Kevin said  firmly. “I’ll go the instant I notice anything wrong.”

Kevin looked at the kid, puffy-haired and simple-faced, a slight mess of late-pubescent spots across his cheeks. He was already nearly panicking, let alone another 13 years of that. “Thanks, but...” Kevin looked aside. “...We’re undoing all the changes when we get back anyway. You won’t be able to change anything.”

Everything seemed to drop out of Teen-Kevin’s expression. “Then why are you back here? Didn’t you come to make all this stuff better?”

“I’m after someone. Did he come by here? Black jacket? Jeans?”

“Not here...” He looked thoughtful though. “I heard someone sneaking off-grounds that way though,” He pointed; “that might have been him.”

“Thanks.” Kevin wanted to get going quickly. He didn’t want-

Teen-Kevin deciding to follow him, asking more questions; “Why are you going to undo everything?”

“Well, because we don’t know what the changes will do otherwise.”

“But you’ll get cancer!”

Kevin kept walking. He just shrugged. “I survived.”

The meandering puppy in the pleather jacket kept following him, even if he shut up for a while, aside from dithering about leaving school grounds during school-time- “You said this’ll all be undone, right?” he checked before following Kevin through the hole in the fence.

“Yeah. You won’t get in trouble.” Kevin hoped.

“Okay.” Teen-Kevin caught back up, quite a smile on his face. “So... when do I get my first girlfriend? Is it soon?”

Good Lord, Kevin had to roll his eyes. “Is that all you guys want to know about?” His teen-self looked slightly confused. His more mature, wiser self just shook his head. “You’ll get your first girlfriend in 2001, if you want to know.”

“2001?!” Teen-Kevin exclaimed. “Next century?!” Kevin almost had to laugh. “How could you make me so lame?!”

“Hey! You made _me_ lame!” Kevin jabbed a finger in his own, scrawnier chest. “I grew out of you!”

It wasn’t over, even as Kevin tried to get it back on track searching for something green; both of them had each other’s fashion sense to fault, and with his Look People red jacket still on Kevin couldn’t totally disagree. He could give himself a cuff up the ear though, “Stop hitting yourself,” and make a good joke.

Eventually they found the portal, not far from the outer fence of school grounds. It was tucked down behind some bins, completely out of sight from the road and any windows or buildings. After taking over 25 minutes to find it, Kevin really felt he shouldn’t dally.

“Do you have to undo things?” A hand grabbed his arm though.

Looking back, Kevin finally understood why people always said he could get away with murder with those eyes.

“I’ll stop smoking. I’ll see the doctor sooner. I’ll do anything else you say to make our life work out better,” Teen-Kevin said, making his plea.

And Kevin hesitated.

The portals didn’t seem to disappear if you waited. Maybe they had a time limit but so far they’d all stuck around for at least half an hour, going by past experience.

Enough time for Kevin to dig out his phone, “It’s future technology; don’t worry what it is,” and show the lock-screen photo.

Teen-Kevin held it too, their hands slightly in contact as he stared. “...Who’s that?”

Kevin smiled. “That’s our daughter, Havana.” He could see his teen-self had already guessed. He could feel the other hand just like his trying to take the phone, so deeply taken by it. “I’m a musician. I get to tour all round the world, both with my band and as a solo artist. I’ve worked with Lou Reed,” That was the only thing that could have gotten his teen-head to lift up; “he was one of my best friends. It started when he sent me a ‘get well’ email when I had leukaemia.”

Younger blue eyes stared at him. They looked back at the phone.

They noticed something beyond it though, on the left hand holding it out. His younger, softer left hand turned his slightly, finger lingering on the unbanded third finger. He only needed to look up enquiringly.

Kevin took the phone back now the lock-screen had gone off anyway, tucking it away. “I never married Havana’s mother. Things never... Relationships never work out for us...” he said.

“Is there anything I can do about that?” Teen-Kevin asked seekingly. “Talk to them more? Spend more time with them?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin admitted. “I don’t know if these things could be fixed.” He began walking again, back towards the portal.

“If you ever think of anything,” He paused briefly though, “come back any time. I’ll do whatever you say to make things better.”

Kevin looked back one final time, his teenage self standing there, bottom lip bitten, eyes so blue and almost a little watery. He looked innocent, unscarred by life yet. “Boy, you make me feel old!” Kevin laughed, stepping forward again.

He paused one final moment though.

Then he jumped in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I fudged a couple of details where I didn't know for the sake of the story: Natalie is always referred to as Ed's 'highschool sweetheart' but I don't know if that's literal and/or if they were in the same school/year.  
> I saw things suggesting Kevin used to smoke. I don't know when/how much. Also, for the purposes of this story he's single in the present day.  
> Stuff like Jim's torn hamstring and Tyler being student council president are true though.


	5. 21st May 1978

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may want to queue ['Moonstone'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzQn7AKfuLs) up for the first part of this chapter.

** ~#~ Scarborough, Toronto ~#~ **

Ed stood stunned in this bathroom.

It was a tiny bathroom, always kept pretty clean because seven people had to use it- Well, as clean as any domestic bathroom could be with seven people using it.

Ed stood at the closed door, handle seeming so small and low now. Yes, he’d been in this house as an older, fully-grown teen as well but that wasn’t how it lived in his memories.

He cracked the door, listening very carefully this time. Even if there was an undo button, even if this all felt like a dream – particularly now – slipping up _here_ felt like it would destroy something too precious.

No one seemed to be around though. Ed could hear conversation from one direction down the hall, familiar voices muffled behind a closed door. The other way he didn’t hear much. He could hear traffic outside, birds and dogs, he was listening so hard.

Then he heard the phone.

“I’ll get it!”

Ed froze up. Deep, cold grief flushed through him, chased by a sweet, warm ache.

The coast seemed clear enough for him to take the chance, opening the door and slipping out in as close to silence as he could get. Then down the hall, the front room. Someone had left the door open. No one was coming now the phone had been answered.

Ed stood at the doorframe, fingers softly clinging to the scuffed wood as he watched.

She was facing the front window, back completely to him and oblivious. She was answering the phone like it was nothing, laughing at the anecdote she was apparently hearing and twirling the phone cord around one finger playfully, waiting for her turn to tell a tale. Any old phone call, framed there in the afternoon light through the windows so simply,  so young.

“Mom...”

Ed let the tears run down his face freely, features slack so they wouldn’t quiver and make a sound.

She laughed again, just side-on enough to see her rolling her eyes with a, “Well, you know what _he’s_ like,” and another laugh of the kind you only shared conspiratorially with someone. “Oh, please; they’re as much trouble as always,” she said with the fond frustration only a mother could have. “Bonnie’s been doing better at school lately though, and little Ed’s becoming such a good guitarist; he’s amazing.”

Ed staggered back, needing to cover his mouth with a trembling hand. He just stood there a moment, not even listening, to see her one final time. Then he had to quietly slip away, brushing each of the new tears from his face.

His room was his first thought. The door was shut though, and it was a shared room. Ear to it, he could hear a slow, gentle thumping of something tapping, maybe a foot or hand on wood. He could take a chance, but he tried to remember if this door creaked.

They pretty much all creaked in this house, and he was feeling a pull to outside from the sunshine.

And if _he_ was feeling it, then maybe...

 

** ~#~ West Hill, Scarborough ~#~ **

“Oh wow...” Jim’s hand ran over the cold, smooth tiles gently, checking this was real and not just a movie set of his life someone had for some reason made. This was actually his home, and either this was early years or he remembered this bathroom being in a slightly worse state than it actually was.

He didn’t linger long though, not when he heard the heavy thump of floorboards and brief running feet outside.

Since the doors of the Creeggan house had always been kept open, much to their teenage chagrin, he wasn’t really hiding very well anyway in the bathroom. And what with how chill and trusting all other iterations of him had been...

Jim walked the familiar landing, past John’s room, past the stairs. The noise was coming from ahead, their room.

Except now it wasn’t.

The bumping and moving around had stopped, replaced by an unnerving quiet that almost fitted this empty, ghost-like memory of his house. Jim still felt uneasy though, approaching the plain door that looked as if it had been slightly knocked to.

His hand rested on the door, looking in at the blue single bed, the shelves, the plain walls yet to be covered with posters and certificates. When he heard the small voices, he pushed the door fully open.

 

** ~#~ Newmarket, Ontario ~#~ **

“Great. Another... Whoa.” Tyler caught himself before went barrelling out of this place as well. After all, this place was, “Holy shit...”

After a moment of standing astoundment, activity seemed to overtake Tyler all of a sudden. He pressed himself to the shut door, trying to be smart and listen first before employing his usual methods. All he was able to hear was blood thumping in his ears. Excitement? Anxiety?

Tyler gave up and stuck his head out. “It’s all just spoilt milk anyway.” And a clear coast. No one was around outside his old, childhood bathroom.

No one seemed to be around anywhere in the house as he crept through, then more confidently strolled.

He almost called out for his mom and dad, too much stupid curiosity, but kept quiet.

It wouldn’t have proved a problem or useful either way: a search downstairs confirmed the whole house was empty.

Tyler picked up a newspaper in the kitchen, confirming the date. Right now there should have been a 10-year-old mini-Ty sitting in one of those kitchen seats, trying to gobble down a whole box of cookies before anyone came and caught him.

“If that motherfucker’s done anything to my family...”

Trying to look inconspicuously confident, Tyler exited the front door into the warm sunshine of late Spring. His anger was in check for now, until he’d confirmed they weren’t just out shopping or something else excusably safe.

At least the area was easy enough to navigate. And with no point looking where that big group of kids was playing hockey in the open area that way – Well, most of them were playing hockey. Some of them were playing soccer where there weren’t enough sticks – Tyler headed down the hidden backways around the estate area.

He stopped almost immediately down the first one.

A little head with a big afro turned to meet him.

 

** ~#~ George Henry Boulevard, North York, Toronto ~#~ **

“Oh wow! Awesome!” Nothing like being home. Kevin stuck his head out of the door for a quick both-ways before striding out. “Now, when would this be...?” The back room he had walked into from the downstairs bathroom didn’t offer many clues. If the kitchen had been free there was a calendar in there. With Sean and his mother’s voices drifting out though, he’d opted for a different direction though. Besides, “Hey, Girl!”

Her head lifted. She only stared at him though, not recognising a friend but not sensing a dangerous stranger either.

“It’s me, Taffy,” Kevin crouched his hand out to her nose. “I guess you don’t recognise me, huh? Do I smell the same?”

Taffy sniffed at his hand. Having decided it was safe enough to lick, Taffy remained uncertain but approached, leaving her small bed under the radiator.

Kevin couldn’t resist a hug, “I’ve missed you, Girl.” He buried his face into the short, golden fur of his childhood dog. “I never thought I’d see you again...”

Taffy remained compliant in his arms.

She just seemed confused when he let go to leave, wary of the sound of a chair scraping in the kitchen. He left Taffy with one final pet, taking his old escape into the garden.

He wasn’t the only Kevin to have taken it either, not that the other one seemed to be doing much out here.

Kid-Kevin was crouched under one of the trees outside, down in the end part of the garden obscured from the view of the house. His lips were moving noiselessly, talking to himself whilst twirling a leaf in his fingers. There were even pauses in the conversation for replies, whomever he was fantasising about talking with.

It was during one of those pauses Kevin interrupted. “Hey, Kid, have you seen-?”

The kid spooked like a rabbit. Kid-Kevin was up on his feet, eyes staring wide and heart doubtless pounding as he stared up at his older self and already trying to slowly back away.

“Whoa, hey. I’m, uh- Didn’t your mom tell you I was coming today?” Kevin lied on the spot. “I’m your Uncle Neil. I’m, err...”

Failing badly was what he was doing. Kid-Kevin didn’t believe a word. What’s more, he was reaching for a stick or stone to throw now.

“It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you!” Kevin admitted to himself instantly how useless that sounded. “Just let me explain myself.”

Kid-Kevin shook his head, glaring up from under that stupid bowl cut.

“Come on! I need your help,” Kevin pleaded.

Kid-Kevin had found a stick by now, even if it wasn’t a very big one. It was something to wave with threatening intent though.

Kevin stayed where he was, crouching even to wait for the suspicion to subside whilst showing he was no threat – What? It worked on stray cats sometimes.

He didn’t appear to have been a cat when he was younger though. Kid-Kevin kept glancing in the direction of his house when he dared, never letting his small stick leave his hands.

Eventually, when he was starting to feel his age in his stiff knees, “Okay, I’ll leave you in peace if you’ll just tell me-”

“Hey! Who the hell are you?!”

Kevin looked up at the new voice, “Oh crap...” and was the one who started backing away now.

 

** ~#~ Scarborough, Toronto ~#~ **

They didn’t have much of a yard. They’d never had much of a yard but that meant they’d never had anything to put a fence around and keep the kids in.

Ed found what he was looking for a few minutes’ walk out into the neighbourhood area. Hidden under trees, down on the ground with just an old crate for a table-

He approached wordlessly, not wanting to scare the kid off. By the time Ed sat down on the ground across from his younger self and got his attention – 7 or 8? He looked like the _Snacktime!_ photo in full-size – he’d gotten close enough the kid was past ‘running off’ into ‘rooted to the spot’ scared.

With wary unease, Kid-Ed’s slightly bowed head and wide features waited on Ed’s first move.

Ed looked down at the cards spread on the crate; solitaire, as always.

His younger self looked down at them too. “...I don’t know any two-player games.”

“...Yeah,” Ed remembered.

They looked at the cards a little longer, the torn corner of a jack moving slightly with the breeze. Ed tried to recall when he’d lost that deck of cards, but maybe it had simply fallen apart instead.

“Hey, buddy,” Ed said gently. “You seen any other adults go by this way, another grown-up guy?”

Kid-Ed shook his head. Then he thought a moment. “Someone went that way a few minutes ago before you,” his quiet, high voice squeaked out as he pointed off.

Away from the house, from all the houses round here. Yeah, Ed had already been thinking about going that way. He’d just wanted to confirm one thing.

“Thanks, buddy.” Ed got back to his feet, knees twinging in a way that really made him feel some envy right now. His kid-self was staring up, the wariness having never really left even for their moment together. Ed hoped it wasn’t too out-of-line to reach down and gently ruffle his mess of curly waves. “You’ll be all right,” he said. “Say hi to your mom for me.”

Ed walked away, only one glance back to check the kid was still sat there under the large oak tree, staring after him with the mix of simple wonder and confusion only kids could pull off.

It was a warm day, good sunshine, few fluffy, white clouds. The grass was so green as it passed by underfoot, taking him out of that little nature area into the back ways no one wanted. When he looked back, Ed couldn’t see the tree or himself any longer.

He found the portal onwards before long though. And even if it felt perfect here, Ed forced himself to step right in.

 

** ~#~ West Hill, Scarborough ~#~ **

Jim watched two kids stop, the closer one spinning round to face him and after a second bringing fists up. The other one behind hid, barely peeking over his big brother’s shoulder. “Hey!” Kid-Jim squeaked at him. “What are you doing here?! This is our house!”

Jim looked around the room, his own green bed against the other wall all mussed up on top and the rolled-up newspapers tied with rubber bands. “Playing pirates?” he asked, awash with a nostalgia now.

“Who are you?!” With his little fists up, Jim couldn’t help but look down and see the cover of _Trunks_ right in front of him. “If you’re gonna try and hurt us or kidnap us, you’ll have to get through me before I’ll ever let you hurt Andy!”

“Oh yeah?” Jim asked, drawing up to his full height about two feet above them.

“Yeah! I’m not scared of you, you tall bad-man! I’ll fight you!” Kid-Jim started advancing on him, throwing some over-dramatic punches that looked good but were completely useless from a technical perspective.

Even when a couple collided, bumping into Jim’s stomach with enough force for him let out a chuckling, “Ow,” he didn’t put up any resistance. His younger self was too tiny and silly. Had he always had such a long, odd-shaped head?

It was easy to take a hold of Kid-Jim’s wrists and disarm him. The ferocious kicking that then started up was less fun, right into his shins, until he lifted the little monster and put him down on Andy’s bed. “Okay, you can knock it off now, little man. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you!” Kid-Jim said, still trying to kick at him.

“I’m not,” Jim tried to insist. “I’m not here to hurt you or kidnap you or steal anything. I just need to ask you something quickly.”

“Nuh-uh! Why should I trust you?!” God, had he been a human boy or a tiger cub? This kid was viciously feral.

“’Cause it’s you, Jim,” a different voice spoke up.

Kid-Andy had taken to hiding behind the footboard of his bed without his big brother to protect him. He was peering over the end now, big brown eyes and a messy, brown bowl cut. Kid-Jim had stopped kicking and thrashing the instant he spoke up too, listening to whatever his little brother had to say.

“It’s a big, adult you,” Kid-Andy answered. “He looks and sounds kinda like you.”

Kid-Jim frowned up at him, trying to work out if those hazel eyes were the same ones he saw in the mirror every morning. Jim smiled hopefully back at him, noticing where Andy’s over-sized, dorky reading glasses were on his bedside table with a book. “You’re in your sci-fi phase, aren’t you?” he remembered. That would peg Andy as late-6 or early-7 and himself as 8.

Kid-Andy nodded. “Are you like an alien that’s travelled back from the future?”

Jim laughed. “I’m not an alien but I am Jim from the future, yeah.”

His child-self had remained sceptical, despite mostly abiding by his brother’s words. Maybe it was protectiveness that made him ask, “Okay. If you’re me then what’s the password?”

“Password?” Jim had to wrack his brains to even- “Man, we changed that thing like once a week! We got through hundreds!” Kid-Jim wasn’t relenting though. “I don’t even know what the date is.”

“Give us any of them then,” Kid-Andy said more leniently, ducking again a little as he bowed to his big brother’s protectiveness.

One of the brother-passwords they’d used before those ages... God, he could remember the final one had been, ‘Tuna’ which they’d named their teenage band ‘Tuna Straight’ after but early years- “The first one was ‘Octopus’,” Jim said, “because it was the coolest animal at the zoo, right? The way it could open jars and change colour.”

Kid-Jim tried to maintain his scepticism. Eventually he relented, slackening somewhat in Jim’s grip. “You’re me?”

“Yeah.”

He was still trying to see it for himself. “How old are you?”

“46.” The scepticism seemed to increase. Maybe he was still too young to imagine ever being that age. Anyway, “Did you see or hear anyone in the house before me?”

“Andy did, didn’t you?”

Kid-Andy nodded, coming out a bit. He was so timidly approaching Jim, but it was like a lure he couldn’t resist. “I heard someone go downstairs but I thought it was you. Or, um...”

“Thanks.” Jim finally released himself, making to move quickly.

He paused at the bedroom door though, especially since he felt a small tug on the back of his shirt.

Kid-Andy only reached up to just above his navel and the hands that retreated were so tiny. His own younger-self was taller, built like the already fast runner he was, but Andy, “Where am I? Aren’t I with you?”

Jim looked into those brown eyes, only one shade darker than his, and crouched down. “You’re back in the future, ready to pull me out. I went and came back into the past ‘cause this is the dangerous job, and I always protect you, right?”

After seeming almost embarrassed, Kid-Andy nodded gladly.

It really was an exercise, but Jim tried to remember what was going through their minds, the plans they’d never drawn up or spoken aloud but had always been so obviously taken as given in every other plan and wish they’d made; that they’d live together during college, buy houses that were side-by-side, go on family camping and canoeing trips together every summer...

They really had spent too much time sharing a room as kids.

“What’s Andy look like when he’s grown-up?” Kid-Jim had come to put an arm around his brother in all the time Jim had been staring lost into his memories.

“Hm?” He startled out of them now though, reaching into his pocket. “Here.” His finger went searching through his photo collection, before tiny hands tried to grab it at least. “Hey! Dirty mitts off my stuff!”

“What is that?! Is it from the future?!” It was Kid-Andy doing the grabbing, almost going squeaky with excitement as Jim held it up and away from him.

“It’s a phone. It’s mobile so I can call people from anywhere. It’s also got a camera built in.” He tried to employ his younger-self in keeping the little sci-fi nerd at bay. Apparently some things were too fascinating even for his cool, pirates and cowboys self. “Look, I don’t have much time; I’ll show you a photo of Andy and then that’s it.”

“It works just by touching it?! Without buttons?!”

“Man...” Nearly four decades; now he felt old. “Okay, here. Look.” Jim turned the screen to them, keeping their prodding fingers away from accidentally triggering anything.

The first photo of Andy he’d found; just Andy sat on a piano stool, mostly facing the camera, whilst talking to his fellow Brother Creeggan about something boring and technical.

They stared at it like it was their first time seeing a barenaked lady though.

The kids had so many questions – About the phone, about Andy, about his glasses and the piano and where the picture was taken – Jim just had one question: “Can I take a photo of you guys?”

He got their enthusiastic agreement, and why not take it selfie-style, aside from the fact they kept trying to prod at the screen and their faces on it too.

But Jim had a picture of himself with them, and even his old, half-sized double bass in the room corner. How he longed to pick that back up and marvel at how small it seemed now but, “I have to go, guys.”

“Aw!”

“No way!” At least Kid-Jim definitely believed him by now.

“Hey, I’ve got a bad guy to stop.” Well, they’d reluctantly relent if he was going to go be a big hero. “And maybe I’ll come back sometime, okay?” he paused again in the doorway to say. “I’ll bring Andy with me if I can.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, since they followed him downstairs now. He didn’t even need their help this time, since the portal was just outside their back door. Either CG was getting sloppy, or he was getting desperate.

Either way, “Don’t follow me in,” Jim warned, already feeling the pull of the portal only a couple of inches from his hand. “Stay here so you can grow up into us.”

“Okay!” The boys waved from the door.

Jim reminisced for a second longer in the way his kid-self still had an arm around his little brother’s shoulders. Then he jumped in.

 

** ~#~ Newmarket, Ontario ~#~ **

“...Hey.” Tyler started.

“Hey,” Kid-Tyler responded, his heels kicking harder at the wall he was sat on.

“...You okay, kid? Where’s your family?”

“Shopping. My sister needed new clothes.”

Tyler moved up close, noting he was still higher than his seated self even on the small wall. “You, um...” Kid-Tyler was still staring down past his shoes. “Why aren’t you playing with the other kids back there?” He pointed a thumb towards the hockey game. “You like hockey, don’t you?”

He’d somehow hoped his younger self would get the joke. Kid-Tyler just shrugged. “They don’t want me to play. They say I’m weird...”

After a further moment sizing up the kid, “Well, this weird, old, fat man’s going to sit with you then.” Tyler took his own seat on the wall.

His kid-self looked up, critical but amused. He wasn’t scared.

“‘Weird’, huh?” Tyler asked, softening his tone a bit.

“Yeah, they call me ‘Buckwheat’ and stuff.” He shrugged again, kicking his feet more energetically. “I don’t mind that. I don’t really mind it. Just...” Tyler waited on him, through his long pause. “...I don’t look like the rest of my family. I do look weird, I guess.” The kid bit his lip.

Tyler bowed his head, taking a deep exhale on that one. He just listened to the rhythmic kicking beside him, neither happy or depressed. Just kicking away, slowly scuffing the heels off his sneakers. “...It’s okay,” Tyler finally said. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t look like the rest of your family. They still love you, right?”

Kid-Tyler stared at him, more of a frown at his platitude of a comment.

“You’re not weird, kid. Look,” Tyler put his hand out, eventually encouraging his kid-self to do the same. “Our skin’s roughly the same colour. I used to have a little 'fro like yours when I was younger too.”

Same hands. Different sizes maybe, and different amount of tanning and aging. But still the same skin covering them.

“You’re not all alone,” Tyler continued, “and you’re not ‘weird’. You’re just you. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re a weird, old man.” Kid-Tyler took his hand back.

Tyler laughed. “Yeah, and you’re a weird kid.” He got up ready to go.

“You just said I wasn’t,” Kid-Tyler pointed out. “Are you trying to cheer me up or not, old man?”

“Just shut up and tell me if you’ve seen anyone else weird go by here in a black jacket and jeans,” Tyler settled for, ignoring the kid’s cocky smirk.

His kid-self shrugged, “but there is a weird, green thing down there behind the bins.”

“Like a shiny, green disc in the air?”

“Yeah.”

Tyler looked that way, then back at the kid. “You touch it?”

“I threw a stick at it.”

“Oh man...” Tyler just had to shake his head. “Okay, well, thanks. And go play hockey or something; get some more practice in.” He held his hand up in goodbye.

“Whatever, weird, old man!” was yelled after him.

Belligerent, little punk...

He had been right though. Tyler found the portal right around the corner, tucked behind the bins. “Why can’t this guy ever find nice places to...?” his muttering trailed off as Tyler let himself be sucked in.

 

** ~#~ George Henry Boulevard, North York, Toronto ~#~ **

“Ow-wow-ow-! I give! I give!” Kevin yanked himself out of Harland’s grip, rubbing his poor, headlocked neck. “Jeez. You never change...”

The teenage Harland glared at him, ready for another go any time the old guy liked. He gave a look to his little cousin though first, tossing his head in Kevin’s direction. “Who’s this? What was he trying to do to you?”

“I don’t know.” Kid-Kevin ran behind his bigger cousin, safely staring out from round teen-Harland’s chest. “He said he’s our Uncle Neil, but I don’t think Uncle Neil looked like that the last time I saw him.”

“Me neither. Who the hell are you?”

This Harland had to be about 15 or so.  After the headlock, Kevin wasn’t messing with him again whatever his age, no matter how embarrassing the whole thing was. His present day-Harland was definitely not hearing about this. “I’m, uh... I’m Kevin from the future, all grown-up.” He didn’t have anything creative to go with this time. “I’ve travelled back in time to save the universe!” Well, he could always embellish it a bit.

Teen-Harland looked backwards over his shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Kidnapper!” Kid-Kevin responded, hiding more.

“Me too.” His big cousin didn’t hide though, just formed a fist ready. “I’m gonna beat you up, then I’m gonna get the police and your ass is getting kicked straight into-”

“Wait!” Kevin called. He got his pause. “I’ll prove I’m Kevin! Ask me something, about you guys or our family.”

Teen-Harland paused. He checked with his little cuz again.

“When’s our birthday?” Kid-Kevin asked.

“July 3rd.”

His kid self went from surprise to looking up at Harland. His cousin knew better though. “These bad guys are clever; they learn stuff like that to seem like they know you.” What would be better proof then? “...What’s my girlfriend’s name?”

“I can’t remember what-! Wait. I don’t even think you _had_ a girlfriend when you were...” He was still going with 15 roughly. “Trick question!” Probably. Hopefully.

Or not? They were checking with a shared glance again.

“You’re heading out down the Betty Sutherland trail,” Kevin blurted out, just about the only thing he could remember from the two of them in this era. “It’s just us, our special cousin thing.” Teen-Harland looked at him with a curious interest now. “You said- I asked you later why you always hung out with just me, Harland, not any of my other siblings. You said it was because the other four were all old enough to go out by themselves and Sean got all my parents’ attention as the youngest so no one paid any attention to me. So you came by, to make sure I wasn’t alone. I never really understood at the time just how much that meant to me,” Kevin said. “Thank you, Harland.”

He had managed to get Teen-Harland blushing almost, or rubbing his face with an awkward frustration at least.

His younger self was looking upwards though, at his so funny, tough and always so cool cousin. He clung on tighter.

Teen-Harland noticed, trying to pull his jacket free. “You’re going to be such a weirdo when you grow up, Cuz...”

Kid-Kevin just hid more.

“So, uh, you believe me?” Kevin checked.

Teen-Harland shrugged. “Yeah, I guess... I only come by really ‘cause I’m bored and you’re easy to impress and tease but...” Kevin put his hands on his hips, giving his lying little shit of a cousin quite the look. “Whatever. What are you here for then?”

“Can we come to the future with you?” Kid-Kevin added.

“Afraid not, little guy. I’m just here to find someone; did you see anyone go by before me? Another adult?” He gave them the description again.

It didn’t really matter, it turned out. “I was... I wasn’t really paying attention,” Kid-Kevin admitted. “I was playing with the, um...” He looked at his cousin, and at his older self, and decided some things were best kept the various versions of oneself. “I don’t know.”

Harland though, “I think I saw someone, when I was coming back here actually.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the fence he’d always vaulted to come sneak Kevin out at weekends. “They were already heading away but you wanna go after them?”

“Yeah!”

Said going after was easy enough for two, with Teen-Harland’s lanky height and kindness in lifting his kid cousin up and over the fence.

Kevin though- “Oof! Damn it” Another failure to pull himself up led him to hit the ground again.

Teen-Harland looked at his cousin. “You’re gonna be really fat when you’re older; I told you to stop eating so many sweets.”

Kid-Kevin pouted, scowled, and folded his arms. “I bet you’re fat too; you eat just as many! Is he fat too?” he asked himself.

Kevin was a bit too winded, and nearly passed out on the floor, to answer. “Right, screw it,” when he’d eventually gotten back to his feet. “Hi-yah!” A hard enough kick broke the panel off by the post, turning the whole thing into a shoddy door. “That was going to go in a couple of years anyway. But if Mom asks, Harland did it.”

His kid-self giggled.

“Hey!” Teen-Harland slipped down on the other side. “Just for that, I’m leaving you up there to die so you’ll never exist.” He told them both, strutting off already.

Kevin helped his smaller, light-enough self down from the fence to follow after him. Neither could move fast enough to keep up, but for some reason their cousin seemed to be lingering at the path junction nonetheless. “Slowcoaches...” might have been heard to be muttered. Their leader stayed walking at a sedentary enough pace though, amusingly.

Right until- “Whoa. Were you looking for this thing?” Teen-Harland called back.

Kevin hurried to catch up to what was indeed, “Yep,” the portal.

His kid-self disappeared from his side, tucking himself behind Harland’s instead. “Is it going to eat us?”

Kevin laughed. “No. I’m going to go through it. You two are going to stay here and have fun; don’t grow up too fast!”

“Yeah,” Teen-Harland concurred. “I’m not looking forward to the day you turn into that.” He pointed his little cousin in Kevin’s direction.

“Me neither.” Kid-Kevin hid completely from him.

“Hey!”

“You look weird...” came from behind Harland.

“Get going already,” Teen-Harland told him; “you even scare yourself looking like that.” He was grinning, smirking, but then cast a glance at the dirt for a bit. “I’m... glad you like hanging out too... You’re my favourite relative...” A little head poked out to check his awkward face.

The grown Kevin just hummed smugly. “I’m telling my Harland you said that. Bye!”

He left his kid-self waving goodbye, and Teen-Harland giving him the middle finger.

Some things never did change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a lot of this chapter was made-up stuff due to sparse references but Kevin's dog, the trail Harland took him down and Tyler's concerns about not looking like his family are real.


	6. 25th October 1970

** ~#~ Toronto area, Ontario ~#~ **

Two Ladies had a pleasantly _Groundhog Day_ -esque landing back in the bathrooms they had just come from (Kevin knew this bathroom well enough for a similar feeling, even if it was a different childhood home). The only difference now was the cover of night cast over everything, plunging them into a slow grope through the gloom to escape the houses again.

Along the way, it wasn’t too much of a detour to look in on their sleeping, tiny selves before heading to the kitchen- Okay, it was somewhat of a detour for Jim considering he had to put himself back to sleep first; luckily his baby-self not only looked exactly like his own son had but fell asleep with the same gentle, tilted rocking.

In their respective kitchens, newspapers or calendars could be found to verify the date.

Ed’s birth date.

If this had been when they were heading to, where were they heading to? Where had Ed been born?

With varying degrees of speed, one badly distorted word came back to the three Ladies: “[Scarbo-arbo-arborough!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-MVKhkgHik)”

_Ed: “I was born there!”_

_Tyler **:**_ _I live there!_

 _Ed **:**_ _...At the hospital?_

 _Tyler **:**_ _Yeah. My... Our house burnt down._

 _Kevin **:**_ _Dude..._

At Scarborough Centenary Hospital!

** ~#~ Scarborough Centenary Hospital, Toronto ~#~ **

“Aw, hell.” Ed screwed his eyes shut as he looked around the familiar style of bathroom. “Oh God please, anywhere but back in _Ed’s Up_. Please don’t somehow be _Ed’s Up_.”

For once, the universe had decided not to screw Ed in a hospital bathroom and he tentatively established there was nothing on the ceiling and walls that should have been in the toilet. Just a clean, enough, hospital bathroom.

“Hospital...” Ed caught himself in the mirror, staring as he realised-

With the strip lights flickeringly lighting the corridor outside, Ed couldn’t tell if it was night or day as he bailed out fast from the bathroom. No one was around either, just the standard, slightly flaky navigation arrows to follow along the walls.

They were taking him to the maternity department.

And today was- “Sorry, I’ve just- I’ve not been well lately,” Ed caught the attention of a man sat in the corridor as he passed; “what’s today’s date?”

The man looked up from his newspaper, “25th of October,” and showed him the front page to prove it. **‘Wreck of Confederate Sub _Hunley_ Found off Coast in Charleston, Southern Carolina – Oct 25 th, 1970’**

Ed began to feel a bit of a tremor building inside him. “T-Thanks!” He bailed fast again, sprinting down the corridors now.

A clock had told him it was 11:42pm as he ran. Since he’d been born earlier in the day, and his mother also had to take care of all his older siblings-

Ed’s shoes left a squeaky scuff on the perfectly clean floor as he came to a stop.

Up ahead, a black-hoodied figure looked round at the noise.

He was stood by the doors to the post-birth unit, watching through the windows for an opening. Ed could imagine who was lying inside amongst the rows of supervised babies, so vulnerable the moment all the nurses turned their backs.

The hooded man had another corridor to take, between where he and Ed stood. He had less distance to it too, as they both started closing in. Once the hooded figure disappeared around that corner-

“Hey! No running in the hospital!”

Ed didn’t care. He was already alive and, if he kept running, hopefully he could stay that way.

Everything would be undone, the nurses he scared, the trolleys he got in the way of, the magazines that scattered everywhere as the chase moved through a waiting room-

Outside. Creepy Guy was headed outside.

Ed redoubled his nerve, and will to ignore that stitch building in his side. He had to keep up; if he lost the guy now and then let him double back through this maze of corridors to the maternity ward...

They cleared the front door.

Whoever this guy was, he was fit as well as creepy. Ed had to give in, practically fall to his knees on the cold tarmac outside and gulp cool, night air.

When he looked up, through slightly woozy eyes he could see the black-hooded figure standing across the carpark watching him.

Looking back, Ed could see he was blocking the entrance back into the building.

That gave him some time.

It had also given someone else some time.

Ed didn’t know who it was that flung themselves at CG, only that they were tall, very light and fast on their feet- It was Jim. Jim flung himself at Creepy Guy, both of them ending up hard on the ground.

CG took the worst of the impact, his winded cry audible from across the carpark. Jim was only 147lb of not-that-trained bassist though, compared to the guy with military-like moves that could and did flip him, slamming Jim onto his back with a knife suddenly in hand.

If Ed thought he had been moving at top speed to save his life in the hospital, it was nothing compared to how fast he ran when one of his bandmates was the life in danger.

Something got him there fast enough to lunge and throw the guy’s aim just enough to hit hard tarmac instead of bone and heart. And somewhere in the scramble of two-on-one, a fist caught Ed’s face, an elbow went in Creepy Guy’s temple and the knife ended up spinning away across the dark carpark.

Ed laid in fiercely once that someone’s elbow gave him an opening – It might have been Jim’s or his, or even a really, **_really_** badly-aimed attack by CG himself for all they knew – and half a dozen sloppy but hard-fisted punches later he had the guy down on the ground for good, moaning and coughing too much to break out of the grip Jim was helping hold him down with.

Jim had his wrists. Ed was sat on astride his stomach, rubbing it in the face of all those younger selves who had teased him about his weight – He’d like to see them be such an effective bad guy anchor!

“All right,” Ed finally spoke, voice tired and breathless but running on adrenaline like the rest of him. “Let’s see who you are...” He reached for the black hood, pushing it back to let Jim and himself see.

And then frown.

** ~#~ 45 minutes later ~#~ **

Two new figures approached them. Thankfully these two didn’t ask what they were doing sitting on a man in the middle of a hospital carpark at just gone midnight.

Well, okay, they did. But it wasn’t like the two other awkward times they had been asked.

“Is that him?” Kevin asked. “Did you catch him?”

“No, Kev. We’re sitting on some other random guy, waiting for you two to turn up,” Ed answered dryly. “Nice jacket, by the way.” He nodded at Kevin, who pulled the bright red eyesore closer around him protectively. “And why couldn’t it have been one of you two who turned up first? Jim’s been no use helping hold this guy down.”

“Hey,” Jim spoke up from on the guy’s legs. “Just because you’ve hit male-menopause-”

“I have not hit male-menopause!” Ed squawked back.

“Well, sorrrrry for taking so long,” Tyler cut in, “but New Market isn’t exactly close to this place.”

“Yeah, neither’s Grimsby,” Both had taken a one hour taxi ride, once they’d been able to find taxis at this hour. Jim had only taken 15 minutes in comparison, by nighttime bus and some good jogging. “So, who is this guy anyway?” The two arrivals could finally take a good look at his bared face – slightly tan skin, short, dark hair, bit of stubble; generic as could be really. “Do we know him?” Kevin asked the slightly-less-new-to-the-band members.

“Nope, don’t think so,” Tyler said. Neither Ladie sat on him offered an identity either. “So it’s just a random guy? Why’s he hate our guts so much then?” So much that he was even covering his ears with his hands now simply to block out them talking, rather than any other use he could have put them to.

“Well, when we turn him back over to CSIS we’ve got some royalties to collect from them,” Ed declared; “apparently they use ‘Another Postcard’ as part of their interrogation techniques – You know, the way they play really annoying songs over and over to break people’s spirit.”

“They use our song?” Kevin asked, a little downhearted.

“Apparently.”

“So,” Tyler thought about giving the trapped man a nudge but didn’t, “he’s a terror suspect or something?”

Ed shrugged. “That was all we could get out of him in 45 minutes, through threat of singing- Or that’s what I think his ranting meant. He seems pretty crazy. Anyway, help restrain him so we can check his back pockets; the time travelling thingy’s in one of them.”

Kevin and Tyler got down to help out, restraining an arm each whilst Ed went through the pockets and Jim tried not to get kicked in the face by the legs. Now some fight had come back into their hostage, not that it accomplished anything except equally pissing them back off at him.

“Crazy nutjob,” Tyler muttered after a particularly strong jerk of the arm he was holding. “Travelling all the way back in time to eliminate a band- Hey, if he can travel through time, why didn’t he just stop himself getting captured by CSIS?”

“You answered it yourself,” Jim said; “‘crazy nutjob’.”

“And did you just admit we’ve travelled through time, Ty?” Ed asked, smirking both from that and the sleek, black device he’d now pulled out of a back pocket. “No more ‘spoilt milk’ excuses?”

Tyler pulled a face. “This is still spoilt milk; reality would make more sense than this level of crazy.” He gave the writhing arm a twist to shut it up.

They took seats again on Thwarted Guy, Kevin still mumbling something about the unfairness of their song being used for interrogation processes. Ed had elected himself tech-user as well as leader, poking away at the controls on the time device for only a second before discovering- “2% charge.”

“What?” The other three leant in.

Ed was turning the device all round, looking for a charging port. Or, “Solar panel.” He showed them the back. “Guess he’s an eco-terrorist.” Either way, great help at 12:46am in cloudy October.

“It’s a converted iPhone,” Kevin said, pointing out the long slot along the bottom too.

The four men stared at it. “...Anyone got a charger?” Ed jokingly asked.

Jim started undoing his shoelaces in reply.

“Really?!” Ed asked. “You’ve got a charger in your shoe?! Even with your massive feet?!”

“Hey, my feet aren’t massive.” Jim popped his first running shoe off, fiddling around inside and lifting out the insole. “And yeah. Anna got annoyed at me always letting my phone run out so she got me these for Christmas.” He held out a small lump of plastic from inside the heel, one with a familiar port on one side. “They have phone batteries in them that charge when you run.”

“Seriously?” Ed took the battery, inspecting it like gold that had come out of someone’s nose.

“Yeah.” Jim was removing his other shoe just in case. “First time I’ve actually remembered to use them though.” With a grin, he started fishing out the other battery.

Ed plugged in the first, watching the number slowly start to rise. “How much do we need, Kev?”

“What?” Kevin zoned back in from toying with the guy’s hoodie string.

“You’re our math guy. How much charge do we need to get home?”

Kevin thought for but a moment, “92%. Good thing you’re not 50 or older, Ed.”

“Even if his younger selves thought he was,” Tyler chipped in.

“Hey.” Ed decided to ignore them and concentrate on the numbers.

Two minutes gave them 86% charge. Jim was sent to go run and get the remaining 6%. Then all it took was, “30th June, 2016. 13:45pm,” and auto-fill even did the location for them.

Time to finally hit, “Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen the hospital cleaning episode of Ed's Up, you should (Although if you're squeamish tread carefully)  
> Also, I totally didn't plan for the news from Ed's birth date to match the location they set off from originally; that was just a spooky coincidence.  
> CSIS are the Canadian Security and Intelligence Services, the Canadian FBI or MI5/MI6. As far as I know, CSIS don't use BNL songs for interrogation but I very much feel like 'Another Postcard' could be.  
> I vaguely remember seeing Jim's battery-charging shoes somewhere on a tech show, although I don't know if they actually exist. They should though, and Jim seems like the type to make use of them.


	7. 30th June 2016

** ~#~ Charleston, South Carolina ~#~ **

They arrived back in the warehouse, luckily stocked with some rope to bind Thwarted Guy up with and shove him in a corner while Tyler and Jim stood guard, Ed got on the phone to CSIS and Kevin plugged the time device back into the main console where he saw a charge point.

Tyler and Jim were exchanging stories of after they’d parted ways in time, and also- “So wait; each of us had a portal? But there’s only one bad guy...”

Ed was in the middle of- “Okay, fine. You don’t have to pay us royalties if you come collect this guy and take him off our hands for us.”

That left Kevin watching and scrolling back through the activity log on the screen, all the various places they’d each landed travelling back through time. It logged how long each of them had taken to move through each time period – It wasn’t a race, although Jim would insist it was – right to their arrival back here.

The smaller time device’s screen showed the same thing actually now. And it had the undo button. Since the phone was unlocked...

Kevin pressed the smaller button just to check. It came up with a confirmation screen instead of a password one.

He looked round at the other three, standing absorbed in their conversations as if they’d completely forgotten about the need to undo everything now their little quest was over. If he didn’t press it, or say anything...

Kevin touched one of the buttons on his lapel, following down the gold row on this wonderful(ly dire) jacket.

Was it going to disappear?

Were all their memories of travelling even going to disappear? All the things they’d said to themselves about their lives, even they had promises made?

If he didn’t press the button...

Even if he did press the button, if he took the smaller time device, changed the password so he could use it any time... It would be as simple to slip into his pocket as a phone...

It would all be so easy...

Kevin dug around in his pockets, furtively checking if he had the room, shooting an equally discreet glance at the other three still completely oblivious as they stood over their hostage, arguing on the phone with CSIS about him and apologising that they didn’t know the name of the guy who had tried to _stab_ them.

Kevin’s fingers hit something. He pulled out his phone.

His thumb had caught one of the buttons on the way out, lighting up the lock screen. Kevin found himself staring at the photo, at Havana sitting at his piano with him, trying to play it just like he did.

Kevin looked past it to the other screen, the smaller device still waiting for him.

Looking around, the other three still weren’t paying attention to him.

Kevin looked at the photo on his phone one more time for a long moment.

He pressed ‘confirm’ on the smaller time device’s screen, undoing everything, and then locked it for good.

“I hit ‘undo’, guys!” Kevin called across the warehouse. “You still remember what happened?” He still did. The memories didn’t feel like they were fading.

Looking up, and coming over, “Yeah, I’ve still got my memories,” Jim admitted.

“More than that,” Ed pointed at Kevin himself, “Kevin’s still got his jacket.”

“What?” Kevin looked down at himself. He hadn’t even thought to notice it but the bright red hadn’t disappeared.

“Wait.” Now Jim was the one digging out his phone. “It’s still here!” He turned the screen round to the rest of them, showing a photo of three Creeggans: one adult Jim, one Kid-Jim, and one Kid-Andy.

“You took a photo with yourself?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah, well, Andy was really cute at that age...” Jim mumbled, shoving it away. “What about you?”

“Me?” Tyler huffed. “I didn’t go messing with the past like that,” he retorted smugly. “I behaved and did what I was meant to-”

They all stopped and stared at the green portal, now interrupting their conversation with a retch-like wobble.

Tyler was the closest, and everyone was giving him looks. “You must think I’m a crazy nutjob too if you expect me to-” Smack! “MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Didn’t mess with the past, huh, Ty?” Jim asked, catching the stick that had flown out of the portal and rebounded off the back of Tyler’s head.

“~I’ll come on back ‘Cause I know, That though you meant to let me go, I could always be your boomerang~” Ed started up.

“Shut up.”

Even after five more minutes their memories still hadn’t disappeared, nor the jacket or photo. Asking the creator of all this didn’t help at all, considering his new-found method of humming loudly every time they tried to speak to him to drown out everything they said; they’d only gotten his reasoning out of him using Ed’s singing, but now this little trick had been discovered...

Well, maybe CSIS could help when they finally turned up, if Ed didn’t bug them about the royalties thing again.

For now, “More time travelling devices need undo buttons; it’d solve so many movies,” Kevin commented as the four sat down by the machine to wait.

“It’d be better if they actually fully worked...” Tyler muttered, rubbing the twice-sore back of his head.

“Nah, I can’t wait to show Andy this,” Jim said, looking at the photo on his phone once again.

“You’re going to tell him you travelled through time?”

“Andy can keep secrets,” Jim simply said, covering all with a smile as he put his phone away.

“Well anyway, the next time we see someone weird hanging around,” Ed decided, “we tell security and let them deal with their younger selves.”

“Yeah, and no more milk,” Tyler added. “Not even soy milk, in case we end up meeting, like, weird alternative-universe versions of ourselves that are women or animals or something.”

“Oh, so time-travel is crazy but alternative universes aren’t?” Ed asked.

“I wouldn’t mind that actually,” Jim decided; “today was pretty fun.”

“Speak for yourself...” Kevin said, still tender about his own headlocked neck – Harland certainly wasn’t hearing about this.

“Either way, it’s all over now,” Ed finally said. “Let’s focus on the show tomorrow. And Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“Stick ‘Another Postcard’ on the set list.”


End file.
